


Brothers in Arms

by Dark Amethyst (KPellinore)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Complete, F/M, Manga, Original TV series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KPellinore/pseuds/Dark%20Amethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nephrite returns from death to find Naru has gone on without him. Losing his purpose and his briefly acquired conscience, he surrenders again to evil until he encounters another lost soul, Rachael. Through her empathy and self sacrifice, he will reclaim himself, his life, his love, and his brothers in arms. (WARNING - A very dark story. Some difficult, disturbing, noncon scenes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

# BROTHERS IN ARMS

# by

# Dark Amethyst

* * *

"Now the sun's gone to hell

 And the moon’s riding high

 Let me bid you farewell

 Every man has to die

 But it’s written in the starlight

 And every line on your palm

 We’re fools to make war

 On our brothers in arms.”  --  Dire Straits, ‘Brothers in Arms’

* * *

 

  **PROLOGUE**

 

Walking walking…with this child in my arms.  What’s become of my life?  I’m certain of nothing but her solid warmth against my chest….my heart within still pounding with the adrenalin of battle.

“Nephrite-sama, thank you,” Naru sighs against me. 

“There’s no reason to thank me.  I don’t understand myself why I rescued you.”

I don’t understand anything…not this fierce desire to protect her…and not her risking her life for me tonight – prepared to die for a man who’s only used her, time and time again.  I feel a twinge of what must be…conscience.  I can’t look at her for a moment.

I’m tired.  And anxious.  I know it’s only a matter of time now.  Zoicite has declared open war on me, and things are past repair with Beryl.  I’m a hunted man.  The only friend I have in the world is this little waif of a girl…and she doesn’t know the first thing about me.

“Besides,” I tell her quietly, “I’ve been lying to you all along.  And I’ll probably go on lying to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She smiles.  “Your heart hasn’t deceived me.”

What the hell does that mean, exactly?  She sees something in me that I’ll never understand.  She’s young, yes.  And foolishly romantic.  But it’s more than that.  What kind of girlish crush could survive what she’s been through for me?  There’s no explaining it.

Laying her head back down on my chest, she sighs, “As long as you’re with me.”  But then my torn shirt catches her eye.  “Oh no.  Look!” she cries.  “You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing.” And it is.  I know Zoicite.  That battle was just the beginning.  I won’t be getting away with just a scratch.

“No, Nephrite!” Naru insists, climbing down from my arms.  “You got this for my sake!  Those evil creatures might come back.”  She looks about us huntedly, then pulls me through the entrance to the park beside us.  “Come on.  This way.”

I allow her to lead me, tenderly amused by her sudden dominance.  We go a short distance, then sit together against a tree.

“Now take off your jacket,” she orders.  I obey, pulling the blood-wet fabric away from the wound.  I grimace – a small cut, but it stings like hell, laced with the youma’s toxins. 

Naru bends down to tear her own shirt.  My eyes are drawn to her bare midriff, remembering earlier this evening, in her room…watching her sleeping…searching her body and soul for the ginzuishou.  She, so sweet and pure…and my thoughts, not quite so.

“You know…,” Naru says, gently wrapping the strip of cloth around my arm.  “Right downtown there’s a café where they serve delicious chocolate parfait…,”

“Chocolate parfait?” I echo dumbly.

“Yes.  Do you hate it?”  She glances up, catching my eye.

“No…I love it.”

“You’re lying,” she observes with an amused smile, looking back down to tie off the bandage.  “But you’re lying for kindness now.”

I flex my arm idly, testing the dressing, unable to think of a reply.

“Thanks, Naru,” I mutter.

She sits back against the tree next to me, hugging her knees against her chest, looking wistful.

“I always wished we could have a chocolate parfait together.  It’s…a little dream…”

“Sure,” I sigh, sitting back also, hating the dejection in her voice.  “We should.”

“Really?” she asks nearly disbelievingly, eyes once more alight.

“Do you think I’m lying again?” I tease.

“No,” she sighs, shaking her head, her pretty red hair swinging.  “I’m so happy!”

She thinks a moment, then glances up at me with her wide innocent eyes.

“Tell me.  Do you get Sundays off in your…evil society?”

I stare at her.  The very notion…her earnest expression…I can’t stand it.  I collapse in laughter…laughter like I’ve never known.

“Nephrite-sama!” Naru exclaims.  “You’re actually laughing!”

I can’t stop.  It must be hysteria…exhaustion.  But I can’t stop.

“Strange…,” Naru says, laughing slightly also, but sounding perplexed.  “Why am I crying?”

I’m about to reach to embrace her…when Zoicite’s youma materialize…attack, faster than I can react, their leader, Gureepu, piercing my right shoulder with her massive thorns. 

“Getting careless, aren’t you?” Gureepu taunts me, “Those thorns will drain your energy until you die.”

Pain wracks my body…physical and mental.  She’s right.  So foolish to sit here off my guard.  I struggle to breathe…to open my eyes…to look around for Naru.

“If you don’t want the girl killed as well, hand over the kurozuishou,” Gureepu demands.

“You heard them,” I urge Naru quietly, turning to her with difficulty.  “Hurry.  Get out of here.  Run!” 

But she ignores me, nearly hysterical, crawling around in front of me to seize a thorn, even as I try to push her away.  Energy crackles painfully over us, and I shout at her angrily.

“Don’t be foolish!  Run!”  But she continues, pulling with all her might, weeping and groaning with effort.

“Mere human strength can never pull those out,” Gureepu scoffs, looking on with arms crossed impatiently. 

“Naru please,” I cry again, trying to convince her, then catch her eye, pleading softly.  “It’s okay.  You’ve done all you can.”

But she doesn’t heed me, pulling harder still…and to the youma’s and my own mutual amazement…the thorns begin moving. 

“Impossible!” Gureepu cries.

I’m stunned as well…just as I was over the kurozuishou’s reaction to Naru-chan.  Can it be…‘love’ again?  Giving her the power to do this? 

“Nephrite-sama, don’t die!” Naru implores me, redoubling her efforts,  the thorns slipping further…

“I’ll have to destroy both of you!” Housenka snarls exasperated.

In this instant of forewarning, I hurl Naru to the ground, covering her with my body just as the attack hits us.  My kurozuishou falls from my grasp, rolling down the incline away from me.  As the smoke dissipates, I try to clear my eyes…nearly blacking out from the pain.

“Are you all right?” I ask Naru, unable to see her…unable to sit up any longer…collapsing over her.

A familiar laugh.  The horrible scent of cherry blossoms.  My ravaged body tenses in hatred.

“Well done,” Zoicite commends his youma calmly, “The Kurozuishou is mine.” 

I glance hazily over my shoulder to see him, fondling my crystal, smiling delightedly at my torment. 

“Aren’t you lucky?” he sneers at me.  “To be able to die with the girl you love?”

To be brought to this…by Zoicite…a sniveling weakling I could have dealt with so easily, long ago, if not for the obviously foolish notion that we were on the same side.  The shame is harder to endure than the agony.

“Heartless creature,” I mutter, likely high praise to him.

“Torture them as you wish,” Zoicite instructs tonelessly, departing, as usual, before he can risk his pretty skin.

“Prepare to meet your fate,” Gureepu warns, raising her hands towards me. 

“Leave me,” I implore Naru again, wishing desperately that she would obey.

Before she can, however, the air rings with another familiar voice – defiant and childish.  For the first time, I am grateful to hear it.  For the first time, appreciative of the senshi’s annoying strength and tenacity as they deftly deal with Zoicite’s youma.  Yet shame rushes back to me.  To fail so blatantly before Zoicite…to be defended by these children.  The memory of Zoicite’s last mocking and triumphant look is nearly more than I can bear…

“Nephrite,” Naru calls, tears in her voice, and I open my eyes, unable to remember closing them.   Naru cradles my head in her lap, and the senshi stand around looking uncertain.

“Sailor Moon…,” I remark softly, feeling…grateful, I suppose.  Relieved that she has kept Naru safe.  “Looks like…your secret is safe.”  It’s the best I can do.  A pax, of sorts.

“No…don’t die,” she protests, tearful.  An hour ago she’d have wished me dead…or happily sent me there.

I turn my eyes back to Naru.  Darkness is threatening me, my energy failing.

“Sorry.”  Such a small word.  Too small to express how I feel…my vast regret in having brought Naru to this.  This ‘love’ I allowed…even encouraged her to feel for me…it will torment her, blight her.  Everything I saw in her…loved in her…she will suffer for.  Because of me.

“For what?” Naru asks me, shaking me slightly, trying to keep me from drifting off.

“I don’t think…we can have…that chocolate parfait.” 

I try to laugh, but it’s a sickening sound…a parody of laughter.  Naru moans slightly, shaking her head at the inevitable, refusing to believe, tears spilling from her eyes.  I reach up my hand to wipe them away and she presses her face against it, crying in earnest.

“I lied to you until the end,” I mumble, trying to smile, trying to ease her pain…and my own conscience.  “I’m sorry.”

I stare at her, her face haloed by encroaching darkness…the pain finally leaving me.  I smile.  There are worse ways to die than this.   I think of Jadeite, strangely, and of the black soulless Dark Kingdom…and find myself nearly peaceful…grateful.  In all the cold expanse of the universe, there is one person who cares for me.

“Don’t forget me?”  I ask her, clinging to this notion – that I shall be remembered fondly by someone.  That I shall live on, somehow.  That my life wasn’t a total waste.  “I just want you to know…you’re in my heart.”

The truth, at last.  Even if everything else I ever told her was a lie.  At least I can leave her with that. 

My eyes are open, but I see nothing now, my senses leaving me.  For a moment I hear Naru cry out, hysterical with grief, and my soul cringes with a pain much worse than the agony my body knew. 

Then…lightness…emptiness…less and less…and finally, nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing new here - the dialogue is faithfully taken straight from the episode. I just want to establish my own 'view' of the events.


	2. Chapter 2

I awaken groggily…to find myself among familiar friends.  There Tarus.  And there Orion.  Aldebaran.  Betelgeuse.  Winking at me through the frigid blackness.

I stare, wondering…not ‘where am I’ … rather ‘what’?  Bodiless.  Senseless.  Yet sentient.  Is this heaven?  There’s nothing here but stars.  Hell, maybe?  My own special punishment.  Alone with the stars for eternity.  A fate as cruel as Jadeite’s. 

Could Beryl have arranged this?   

Thoughts of Beryl and the Dark Kingdom lead me swiftly back to my last memories...of Zoicite and his vindictive treachery.  And of Naru.  Her agonizing scream returns to me afresh and I’m filled with a desire to see her…to soothe that agony.  And as my longing grows, I find to my amazement that I’m moving…as fast as light.  Perhaps as fast as thought? 

I have no doubt that I am being drawn towards Naru, though how or why are beyond my understanding.  I dismiss questions…concentrate on her…remembering every detail of face and hair and scent…and very soon the blue-white marble of Earth comes into view. 

Logic pesters me, demanding explanations.  Fast travel, yes, but at a limited speed.  And a limited field of ‘view’.  If I were spirit, why wouldn’t travel be instantaneous?  Whatever I am, I am finite energy.   So…was I killed?  Or merely...dispersed?

Earth approaches very rapidly, and soon I am hurtling through her clouds.  I slow my descent, focusing my thoughts on Naru…feeling her pull me…through the cloud cover…down to Japan…and down…at last to the surface, into the familiar buildings and streets of Tokyo.

I slow to a stop to get my bearings.  It’s not an area I recognize.  The long iron-fenced street is quiet, the sun suggesting late afternoon.  A sign on the gate declares the large white building beyond to be a high school.  I feel that Naru is within.  I move to it, entering by the large double-doors, knowing this foolish and unnecessary.  I could just as easily go through a wall…but I don’t want to give in to it…to this condition.  In my heart, I’m a man still.

Once inside, I sense harder for Naru and I’m led up a flight of stairs and into a deserted door-lined hallway.  As I move forward, a door opens suddenly and a dark-haired girl emerges, walking in my direction.  Instinctively I tense, awaiting her reaction, but she ignores me…assuring me of my invisibility. 

Relaxing, I concentrate again, and I’m led to a door a short way along.  I move through it and into a small classroom, peopled by about twenty teenaged students.  My attention is on them, searching their faces one by one, and for a moment I do not notice the woman standing at the front of the class, her back turned as she writes on the chalkboard.  But then she speaks and I focus on her, stunned.

Her hair has grown long, her body tall and slender, and her voice deeper and less child-like…yet it is her – Naru.  There is no doubt.

For how long have I been away?  Ten years?  Fifteen?  It isn’t possible!  But the evidence stands before my eyes.

I watch her, amazed, for some time as she guides the class through a lesson in mathematics.  And as I watch and listen, I smile inwardly, impressed as always with her gentleness and beauty…and now by her intelligence and obvious patience.  A student asks a question and Naru smiles with all the sweet kindness I remember.

But does she remember me?  This time passage confounds me…I’m uncertain of my intentions.  To me, I only just left her and her terrible pain is still fresh in my memory.  But for her, that was many years ago.  She will likely have healed now…but I must know.

I move closer and closer, until I’d be touching her, had I a form.  She has grown very beautiful, her face lit by the sweetness of her nature, her blue eyes still wide and innocent.  I must know her feelings.

I move uncertainly nearer…into the strange sensation of our energies intermixing.  Suppressing all my own thoughts and feelings, I concentrate fully on Naru’s.  Foreign emotions and memories flit across ‘our’ mind, which is currently taken up with a math equation.  How strange it is to share one’s mind with someone else.  How might I control her thoughts?

I conjure up a picture of myself in our mind’s eye – memories of our last moments together.

Naru-chan snaps the chalk in her fingers, and the students stare at her, surprised.  She pauses a moment, then continues writing, saddened now, and contemplative, having more difficulty concentrating on the equation.

She hasn’t thought about me for a long time, it’s plain, and it seems I was a healed wound.  Her formerly happy feelings are blighted, and I regret reminding her. 

I use my own will to clear our thoughts, concentrating with her on the numbers…feeling the chalk in her fingers, hearing its scrape against the blackboard…smelling the vague scent of her perfume and just the honest smell of her clean hair and flesh.  I am nearly overwhelmed by her senses, being deprived of sense for so long.

When we are calm, I begin to search again, looking for answers.  Is there someone in her life now?  A boyfriend?  Husband?  As this thought strikes me, I become aware of the significant ring on her finger.  Who is he?  How can I make her think of someone I don’t know? 

I think about weddings, remembering with remorse and frustration my failed attempt to take that young sewing teacher’s energy.  How excited that woman was…how much in love.  Was Naru like that?

At last, after several minutes of bringing through our mind dresses, cakes and other such girlish fantasies, Naru smiles and brings to our mind a memory of her own wedding.  I latch on to this thought, exploring it and feeling it for myself. 

Naru-chan…decked out in yards of frilly white…blushing and blithe.  And there’s the man – her husband – short black hair and a nervous smile.  I focus on him, and Naru’s heart swells.  He seems bashful, and uncomfortable with all the ceremony, but his eyes glow as he looks upon Naru-chan. 

Such a weak unimpressive creature he seems.  How could she love such a man after loving me?   But…that’s not important.  He inspires such happiness in Naru as we think about him…such trust, friendship, and admiration…so different from her feelings for me.  I could never make her feel like that.  She loves him.  She is happy.  It’s time I left her.

I begin to withdraw, but before I can, I catch Naru’s next thought…  Black curls, a plump round face, Naru’s sparkling blue eyes…and a surge of responding love in Naru’s heart that dwarfs all emotions I have ever experienced.  A child…Naru’s child.

I step back from her, recovering my own identity…watching her shake herself slightly, as if coming out of a dream.  A bell clamours and the students rise, as one, to their feet, packing up books and chattering to each other.  Naru puts down her chalk and calls out homework instructions as they begin to head out the door.

As the room empties, she placidly tidies her desk and puts some papers in her briefcase.  Moving to the door, she looks briefly over the room…and right through me.  She shuts off the lights…closes and locks the door…and is gone.

I remain, alone in the darkened room, sensing the background hum of activity in the school fade and finally stop.  My feelings and even thoughts have grown blank.  It seems my energy is weakened from my communion with Naru.  This starts me wondering again…how do I have energy to lose?  My thoughts muddle…I feel myself growing almost tired, and in another moment I know nothing more.


	3. Chapter 3

I ‘awaken’ in a dark unfamiliar place, feeling hollow and dismal.  I discern desks in the dim light and remember my encounter with Naru.

I feel…abandoned…betrayed.  But that’s not fair to Naru.  She loved me, and still does.  She didn’t leave me.  I left her.  But I didn’t intend to.  Rage and frustration flood through me, then ebb, leaving me numb.  No.  It isn’t fair.  But I’ve never known life to be so.  At least Naru is happy now.  That’s what I came to find out.

I don’t bother moving to the door this time, but pass through the window beside me and out into the night.  I drift aimlessly about, seeing occasional places that I remember…wishing I could forget. 

I wander, eventually, to the brow of a hill where the land slopes away, touching the sea not too far in the distance.  There’s a  bench here and I wish I could sit.  Pathetically, I pretend to, settling my energy as I might had I a body…and fall to thinking.

What now shall I do?  How can I stay here as nothing more than a bloody wraith?  This is not my world.  I want…to go home. 

I will go back.  I’ll return and face the consequences with Beryl. 

I laugh bitterly as I reflect that it would be pleasant to see a familiar face – even hers! 

And if she terminates me?  I think I’d prefer that to this powerless half-life.  I’m not used to being powerless, and I don’t like it.

I still my thoughts and concentrate on home…the Dark Kingdom…willing myself across the strange membrane separating our dimensions.  But…I fail!  I cannot cross over!  My desperation grows as I try again, and again, slowly realizing that the door is closed to me. 

Great emotions begin to wash over me – rage, frustration, lust for revenge…and even fear.  Perhaps the Dark Kingdom is no more.  Could it be we were all defeated?  Could I be the only one left?  I’m suddenly tempted to start some trouble – as if I had the power – just so it might summon that wretched Sailor Moon and perhaps she might explain some things to me.  But, of course, I can’t.  Besides, if I did, she might let Naru know that I’ve returned, and I can’t allow that.

I feel spent.  I feel hopeless, friendless, and afraid.  I crave oblivion.  But how does one kill oneself when one is dead already?

This absurd contradiction makes me laugh bitterly, and then…I am crying…my whole being tensed with loathing at my own weakness.

“Excuse me…,” a gentle voice says.  “Are you alright?”

I startle violently and spin around to see a woman standing quietly behind me, watching me with wide dark eyes.  She shelters under a large black umbrella and I notice that a cold rain has started, falling in large, icy drops upon my upturned face.

It takes a few stunned moments for these startling facts to sink in…this woman can see me, and I can feel the rain!  I jump to my feet, looking down amazed over my familiar form, clad in my beloved grey and gold uniform.  I could almost cry again, in relief!

“You looked so sad,” the woman explains quietly, and I glance at her, still in some disbelief.

“I’m alright,” I say shortly, my voice low and a bit gravelly from long disuse.   I turn away from her, concentrating on this new factor.

So – now I do have a form…and possibly powers as well.  But what does this change?  I try again to cross through to the Dark Kingdom, and fail, again.  My shoulders sag and I sit down tiredly.  I seem very weak.

I look down to the dark flash of the ocean, squinting my eyes against the increasing rain. 

What good does my body do me?  I have no mission – no purpose…no desire.  Perhaps some being overheard my earlier thoughts and gave me a form so I might kill myself properly.

“You’re getting soaked…and you don’t seem well.”

I startle again, less sharply than before, but I had forgotten this woman’s presence.

“Leave me,” I order, not looking at her, and wishing she would stop pestering me.

She does not leave, but moves around to stand before me, staring down at me appraisingly, one eyebrow lifted slightly.  She is not terribly tall, and not terribly thin – though it is difficult to make out much detail between the darkness and the long coat she wears.  Her hair is darkish, and short and boyish – almost as Jadeite wore his.  Thoughts of Jadeite cause more painful frustration and I turn my face away from her.  I have nothing but sympathy for poor Jed now…I wonder if he is still imprisoned.  Perhaps he could be saved…perhaps we could work together.  But I can’t even return.  How could I save him?

"Have you nowhere to go?” she asks me sadly.

I ignore her.  She steps closer to me and bends down, sheltering us both under her umbrella.

“You can’t stay out here,” she says firmly.

I turn my head to glare at her, and speak as threateningly as I can.

“I told you to leave me.  Go away or you’ll be sorry.”

Her dark eyes widen, yet to my exasperation, she does not obey.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m not leaving you here like this.  You look terrible, and you’re going to get worse sitting out her freezing and soaked.”

A shiver goes over me, and I realized grudgingly that she is right.  My belly suddenly growls, adding more strength to her argument.  She plainly hears this and smirks slightly, then straightens up and smiles, unsurely but kindly.  She puts out a hand towards me.

“Come on,” she says softly.  “You can stay with me until you’re feeling better.”

I don’t move, but meet her eye undecided.

“I can see that you’ve got a lot on your mind…but you can’t make any good decisions until you’re well and rested.  Whatever is troubling you, it will keep.”

That is true, I have to admit.  What would be lost by waiting?  And I’m feeling physically miserable, and no longer glad to have my body back.  I must have shelter and food.  She offers them.  What would it hurt to accept?

I ignore her outstretched hand and rise to my feet.  Lowering her hand, she looks up at me, perhaps looking a little frightened or dubious – but she makes herself smile.

“Here,” she offers, reaching up.  “Take my umbrella.  You’re too tall for us to share it.  I don’t mind getting wet, and it’s not far.”

I shake my head, and she shrugs resignedly.

“Very well then.  Come on, it’s this way.”

She turns and walks away, glancing over her shoulder to see that I’m following.  Seeing few other options, I do.

= = = R = = =

Rachael, what are you doing?  Have you lost your mind??

I glance back over my shoulder, on the premise of checking for traffic as we leave the park and cross a street.  He’s still there - a few paces behind me.   Meanwhile, my mental ranting continues…

How can you bring a total stranger back to your apartment?  He could be anything!  A murderer!

Oh, come on!  How could I leave him there looking like that?  I had to help him.  And he’s not a murderer, obviously.  If he meant me harm, it wouldn’t have been so hard to convince him to come with me.  But god, he is strange…

We’ve arrived at my building and I dig in my coat pocket for my keys.  They jangle together as I pull them out and find the right one, my fingers stiff from the cold.  My mysterious companion stands quietly behind me, waiting, until I finally unlock the door and open it.

I wedge my foot in to keep it open, then turn to collapse my umbrella and shake the rain out of it.  He steps back as I do this, but he really couldn’t get any wetter.

I glance up at him…way up.  His long hair hangs in wet clumps over his shoulders.  The entryway light shines directly behind his head, making his face hard to see and giving him an ominous look.  I shiver and turn away quickly.

“Here we are,” I say, stupidly and unnecessarily as I hold the door open.  He takes the door and waits silently for me to precede him. 

So…definitely a gentleman.  But not much of a talker.

I steal another glance at him as we wait for the elevator.  Here in the light, he’s even more impressively gorgeous than I’d imagined…but he also really looks ill.  His lovely blue eyes are dull, with dark circles beneath them.  He doesn’t glance around or look at me, but stares lifelessly ahead, waiting.

Poor guy, I think sadly, looking up at the lighted floor numbers, slowly moving lower…7…6…5.  He should be in bed. 

When the damn elevator finally arrives, we ride up in silence, then move down the quiet hallway to my door in the corner.  I unlock then open it, feeling around for the light switch. 

Stepping in behind me, my strange gentleman casts a quick glance over my small apartment.

“Not overly impressive,” I acknowledge, bending down to untie my boots.  “But it’s clean and warm.  And I don’t need much space.”

I wait for the standard, “You live here alone?”, but it doesn’t come.  I glance at him again and I’m immediately awash in sympathy. 

“Look,”  I tell him, a hand on his arm.  “Go over and lie down on the couch.  I’ll get you something to eat, and then you can rest.”

I move off towards the kitchen and notice that he hasn’t obeyed, but is reaching down to remove his own high boots.  I raise an eyebrow to myself at his costume, not for the first time.  What on earth does he do?  I’ve never seen clothes like that.

Shrugging, I hurry into my tiny kitchen to try to find something quick and warm.

= = = N = = =

My boots removed, I do as she bid me and move slowly over to the green plush sofa in the middle of the small room.  I sit down gratefully, appreciating its softness, resting my head as I glance around the place.

Before me sits a long rectangular table that would be quite at home in the Dark Kingdom…reddish-brown polished wood, ornately carved with sinister-looking dragons.   Across from me is a high-backed chair, upholstered in green and black.  The rest of the available space, and there is not much, is taken up by bookshelves, these filled with an impressive number of books, as well as a few neglected-looking plants.

I close my eyes a moment and listen to the busy sounds of dishes clanking.  Pleasant smells begin to waft to me, and my stomach growls again.  I’m so tired…I hope I can stay awake to eat.

An electronic beep sounds.  A few minutes later my hostess returns with a tray which she sets on the table before me.  She kneels down on its other side, looking up unsurely.

“I brought you some soup.  I hope you like it…I had to microwave it, as it was frozen…but I made it myself, originally…it should warm you up.”  She pauses abruptly, as if embarrassed by her flustered talk.  She takes a deliberate breath before continuing more calmly. “I brought you coffee too, if you don’t think it will keep you from sleeping.”

I shake my head at this.

“Not much could do that.  I’m bloody exhausted.”

I reach down and take the mug, and swallow gratefully the strong steaming coffee, feeling its heat spread through me.

The woman is watching me, and I give her a small nod of thanks.  She seems to realize that her staring is disturbing me so she looks down at her hands a moment.  I start into the soup which I find hot and incredibly delicious.  My appetite is sharper than I ever remember it being before.

Perhaps noticing this fact, my companion departs the room and returns with a loaf of dark bread, a knife, and a small plate of butter.

She sits down, but this time in the chair across from me.  She’s staring again.

“What’s your name?”  I finally ask her, putting down my empty bowl and cutting myself a generous slice of bread.

“Rachael,” she answers softly.  She then asks mine, and I tell her quickly, between mouthfuls.

“Nephrite?” she confirms, uncertainly, as if she’d never heard a name like that before.

I nod shortly.  This bread is wonderful.

“You made this too?”

She smiles, slight pride lighting up her face.

“Yes…I love to cook.  It’s my hobby.  It’s nice to have someone to cook for besides just myself.”

But she looks away as she says this and looks angry with herself.

“Everything was excellent.”  I tell her honestly.  I believe my stomach is at last content, and I sit back and rest my head again.

“It’s time you got some rest…Nephrite.”

She says my name so gingerly – as if she’s afraid to break it.

She takes the dishes away to the kitchen.  When she returns, she moves the chair over to the wall, and then drags the table away as well.  She stands before me waiting, then smiles crookedly.

“Would you get up a moment?”  she asks with slight emphasis. 

I do, and she removes the couch cushions, and deftly turns couch into bed.  She moves to a closet and produces pillows and blankets, then arranges the bed quickly with both.

“There you are,” she says efficiently.  “Now.  There’s a bathroom in there.  And towels under the sink.  Please make yourself at home.  Um….”

Her business-like speech is marred by this last syllable.  She is staring at my chest with a faint blush on her pale cheeks.

“I…haven’t got a lot…for you to wear…”  Her brow furrows.  “Hmmm.  Just a minute.”

She leaves the room quickly, and returns with an armful of dark green.

"It’s a robe.  It’s the only thing I possess that might even possibly fit you.  At least it doesn’t have lace or ribbons.”  She smiles slightly teasingly, then runs a hand self-consciously through her shining red hair. 

I had not paused yet to scrutinize her very closely, but now I do, and I realize she is quite lovely.  Her skin is clear and white, and her eyes are green.

I step a bit closer to her, to see her better, and her smile vanishes and her eyes widen.  She is wearing jeans and a beige sweater, both of which reveal her to be very curvaceous, with wide hips and a narrow waist.

I raise my appreciative eyes to hers and find her trembling slightly.  Am I frightening her?  I step back a pace, then try to speak in a non-threatening way.

“Thank you, Rachael, for your kindness.  I’m very grateful.”

“I’m glad I could help you,” she answers in a slightly hoarse voice, then clears her throat nervously.  “If you lay out your clothes…over the chair, they should be dry by morning.  I can press out the wrinkles for you, but I don’t have a drier.”

“Thank you,”  I say again.  “Good night.”

“Good night,” she echoes with a barely discernible shake of her head, as if she cannot quite accept what she sees.  She turns and goes into another room, leaving me alone.

She’s probably questioning the wisdom of letting a strange man sleep outside her door.  How many people would have taken me in like this?

I shake off the thoughts, feeling increasingly exhausted.  I use the bathroom, then return to the bed and remove my very damp uniform, hanging it over the chair, as she suggested.

I climb naked under the clean sheets and lay back on the pillows.  The bed is small for me, but it is soft and welcome.  I shut my eyes, then notice I’ve forgotten the light.  Too tired to bother getting up again, I reach out a hand towards it and will it off.  The room disappears into darkness and I doze off to sleep feeling at least slightly comforted.

= = = R = = =

As I close the door to my bedroom, my heart is at last slowing down.  I undress with distinct nervousness – as if Nephrite might hear or see, or burst in – then reach for my comfortable flannel ‘jammies’.  I think better of this, however, and put on the green silk nightdress I bought and have been saving for god knows what.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and turn slightly.  It looks good, and I’m reassured…slightly.

My wits and emotions are addled, I realize.  It’s very late.  I douse the lights and crawl between the cold sheets of my antique bed.  It’s huge, and as usual I feel very small in it.  How ridiculous to have Nephrite out there uncomfortable on that tiny bed, and little me here in this one.  I’m an airhead, truly.  I should have suggested we switch, but it’s too late now.

I close my eyes firmly and will myself to sleep…but it’s hopeless.  I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve, and my mind races as if I’d had seven cups of coffee before retiring.  All I can think of is that magnificent man, and how I can’t wait till morning for a chance to see him again.

I sigh, exasperated with myself, and put a hand over my face.  It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice in this chapter the device I resorted to, to make it clear who's speaking, in a story that turned out to be first-person, but with two different speakers. 90% of the time, I'm sure the device is unnecessary, but I put it in anyway, just to avoid confusion.


	4. Chapter 4

= = = N = = =

I awake to a room full of sunshine and for a moment I couldn't say where I am. Then I remember, and sit up slowly, feeling stiff and slightly sore. It's not much of a bed, but it's better than having slept out in the rain.

I pull myself up to rest against what was the back of the couch. I'm grateful to notice I still have senses - that I haven't disappeared in the night. I hold up a hand before me, idly, appraising its solidness, still finding it hard to accept that I am again as I was.

I remember managing to extinguish the light last night, and wonder how much of my power has returned.

I glance at a heavy bookshelf and reach towards it. Gradually, with some mental effort - more certainly than it used to take, I raise it several inches in the air. Satisfied, I set it down again, as gently as possible, but a large unsteady book slips off and lands on the hardwood floor with a resounding bang. I lift it back up and put it in its place, then let my hand fall to my lap, encouraged and disappointed all at once. I'm not yet everything I was, but I appear to be healing. Concentrating with all my will, I try again to cross home, but still cannot. I wish I could be certain...is the crossing impossible, or do I merely lack the strength?

A muffled cursing comes suddenly from the bedroom and, banging her door open, Rachael stumbles out, clad in a brief, shimmering green dress. I have turned around to look at her, and as her half-focused eyes fall on me, she stops short and stares. Plainly she'd forgotten I was here.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Problem?" She looks befuddled, so I clarify. "You were yelling?"

"Oh," she responds, trying to compose herself. "I overslept...forgot the alarm. I missed my first class."

"You're a teacher?" I confirm.

"Well, yes...I am. I teach English, at night school. But in the days, I'm a student myself."

She makes an effort to smile more calmly and seem relaxed, but she hugs her arms around her chest self-consciously.

"What do you study?"

"History," she answers, with a wave of her hand directed at her plethora of books. She responds dismissively, as if uncomfortable with this talk of herself. She alternately glances desperately at me then away, and shifts her weight uneasily from one bare foot to the other.

I smile inwardly, knowing she's embarrassed by our mutual lack of clothing.

"Why don't you sit down?" I ask her wickedly, gesturing to the foot of the bed.

"I'll just go and dress first...," she begins, but I cut her off firmly.

"No." I catch her now slightly frightened eyes, and narrow my own. "I like this dress. Sit down."

Looking more frightened now, she obeys slowly, walking unsurely over to the bed's edge and perching upon it tensely, arms before her and slim calves pressed tightly together.

Now, facing forward again, I can relax and lean back. My chest is bare and I see that she won't allow herself to stare at me. I won't press her now, however. It's enough that I can stare at her.

"What sort of history?" I ask her conversationally, not much interested in her answer, but enjoying watching the diverse emotions battling through her. How transparent she is.

She's finding it difficult to speak normally.

"Um...I have my Master's degree in mediaeval history...and classical history...and I took minors in Greek and Latin. I'm here studying Japanese history."

"You're not from Japan." I confirm, as she has faltered to a stop. "I didn't think so."

She shakes her head, her red hair swinging slightly. She ventures a glance at me at last.

"You aren't either, I don't think," she comments, a trace of fear still discernable in her voice.

"No." I acknowledge somewhat bitterly. "I'm from far away."

She nods, sympathetically, as if she senses my feelings.

"I'm alone too," she states, looking first at her toes then, more bravely, at my face.

I don't answer, but stare at her deep-green eyes for some time. She stares back, nervously at first, then gradually relaxing.

"English is your first language?" I ask her eventually, thinking back over her words. She nods in confirmation. "Would you prefer if I spoke in English?"

"I don't care." She shrugs, then smiles, reflecting. "I don't use it that much here, outside of class. It might be nice."

"Very well." I say, switching. "English it is."

My stomach begins to complain of its emptiness.

"Is there more food?" I ask her, and she nods.

"What would you like?" she asks somewhat breathlessly.

"I'll forage." I answer, standing up and wrapping the bed sheet - for her sake - around my waist. "You see to my uniform. Then perhaps you could relax a bit."

I smirk at her embarrassed blush, and move into the kitchen.

= = = R = = =

I watch him leave the room, my face burning with indignation, then march to my bedroom and dress, defiantly.

"Who is this guy?" I demand of myself, throwing a black shirt over my head and punching my arms through its short sleeves.

"How dare he order me not to get dressed?! I'll get dressed when I like!"

I glower at myself in the mirror and brush my hair violently, equally angry with myself for wordlessly obeying him.

"I had to obey, though. I was bloody terrified. I still am. He's got to go!"

I begin putting my makeup on, very carefully, and I grimace as I acknowledge that his going is the very last thing I want. I most certainly, desperately, violently want him to stay.

I do not want him to know this, however.  Under no circumstances!  I may not be the world's expert on relationships, but I do know that men cannot stand neediness or desperation.

I stand up and look myself over, highly annoyed. All made up, tight shirt, tight jeans and my sexiest lingerie - not desperate at all! I look at the door and set my teeth in determination.

I burst out into the front room, but it's empty. Rallying myself again, I push open the door to the kitchen.

Nephrite is here, sitting composedly at the small table, looking downwards out the window. Light is streaming through his auburn hair, and over his gorgeous broad chest. Oh god...

He looks up as I enter. I stop just within the door...this kitchen is far too small.

"I'm going to class," I state. "The iron is in the closet, and so is the ironing board. You can take care of your own clothes."

I sound far bitchier than I intended, but I must stop grovelling at him. I strive to find a tone that's kind but firm. I look him in his beautiful, slightly narrowed eyes.

"I'll be gone for most of the day. You're welcome to stay here. If you're here when I get back, I'll fix us something nice for dinner. I have no night school tonight."

He doesn't answer, so I make myself turn around and go out the door. I stop at the closet to don my brown leather jacket, and boots, and to find my keys. Nephrite appears silently in the kitchen doorway, watching me...unnerving me.

I look at my keys, warring internally for a moment, then reach into the closet and take my spare set off the hook.

"Here," I say, holding them out to him. "Take these, then you can go out, and still get back in."

He looks from them to me with a strange amused smirk, but smothers it, almost, and closes a large hand around them.

I put my hand on the doorknob and turn it.

"No books?" Nephrite's deep voice bears a hint of pretended confusion.

I turn to glance at him, losing my composure.

"What?"

"I thought students generally carry books." His bloody smug expression makes it perfectly obvious he knows I have no thoughts of school today. He knows I'm running away from him. Shall I go and fetch my backpack from my room? And walk right past him? I can't.

"I don't need them," I state shortly, then add, "They're in my locker, at school."

He doesn't reply but narrows his eyes slightly in response to this obvious lie. His good humour, such as it was, is leaving him.

"I'll be back later," I repeat, grabbing the doorknob again and yanking the door open, quite desperate to get out before my resolve evaporates. I close it quickly behind me and hurry to the stairwell, perfectly willing to trade ten flights of stairs for the risk of lingering too long in wait for the bloody elevator and seeing him again.

I've got to go out, I think, as I jog down the stairs, my boots clicking on the concrete, my thoughts as short as my breath.

I've got to clear my head for a few hours...to think of something else. Everything in me wants to go back and beg him to stay, at any price. I'm terrified...that he may leave...that I may never see him again...at how irrational I've already become...

I reach the street level and push open the heavy fire door, welcoming the cold rush of outside air.

I just need...some time.

= = = N = = =

The front door closes behind Rachael with a bang, and I have to smile at her near wildness to get away from me. She's so very odd. I've never seen anyone fight themselves so hard before. She plainly wants me. It's completely obvious...so much so that it's a struggle not to oblige her. Yet look at how desperate she was to go! She's afraid of herself, that's it. Afraid of what she might do in a weak moment.

I step slowly over to my dry but wrinkled uniform, and my brow furrows in further reflection.

She may be afraid of me, as well. She certainly was this morning.

I pull my shirt over my head, and smile slightly.

She's not very good at taking orders. She shall have to learn to be.

I finish dressing, then close my eyes a moment, clearing my thoughts and imagining vividly my uniform - clean and pressed. When I open my eyes, it is so, right down to the creases in my trousers.

I can't continue wearing this. Much as I love it, it's hardly inconspicuous. Perhaps it's time to resurrect Sanjouin Masato...his wardrobe at least. And perhaps the car. Really, that car is the only thing from this worthless planet that I missed, besides Naru-chan.

I think of Naru again, seeing her as the child I left, and as the woman I met yesterday...and wince with regret and sorrow. I remember the pang she felt, thinking of me...an unhealed scar within her also. Why did it have to be this way? I felt something with her...a light within me somehow...a spark of virtue that she saw in me...kindled in me.

It's gone now, without her.

I shake this dark mood off, quickly refocusing my thoughts. I'm feeling well...rested and energetic. I'll go out and get a few things I need. It'll be good exercise for my energy, and it will kill the time till Rachael gets up the courage to come back.

= = = R = = =

I return home about four o'clock, unable to stay away any longer. I've wandered and window shopped, even gone to a movie, trying to blot out my thoughts...but I can't stand it any longer.

The ride up the elevator is interminable. When it finally arrives on my floor, I break out like a racehorse from the starting gate, nearly spilling the bag of groceries in my arms.

Making it to my door, I dig out my keys and unlock it with shaking fingers. I stop then, ridiculously terrified, and unable to open the door. What if he's not there?

Come on, Rachael! If he's not, you'll just get over it.

I won't though, I answer myself sullenly. I push open the door fatalistically...and he is not there. I know he's not. The place somehow feels deserted.

I go into the empty kitchen and put the bag of groceries on the counter. There, on the table, lies the spare set of keys. I walk slowly out and into my equally empty bedroom...no Nephrite.

Feeling hollow inside, I plod back to the kitchen and put the groceries away. No need to start dinner. I'm certainly not hungry.

I walk out and sit down on the bed Nephrite has left unmade. Picking up a pillow, I inexcusably raise it to my face, trying to catch any scent of him.

A few hours, Rachael! Just a few hours he was here. How can you be this badly off?!

But I've never met anyone like him before...never will again. God, if I'd known he would go, I would have knelt down and kissed his feet if he'd asked me!

Of course you would have. That's the trouble!

I wipe away tears, exasperated with myself...and with him. Not a goodbye. Not a thank you. Not even a note! Who acts like that?

I get up, sniffling slightly, trying to be angry. I remove the blankets and pillows, and put the sofa back together, then pull the chair and table back in place. I throw the blankets untidily back in the closet, and the pillows onto my own bed. Seeing little point in any other activity, I rummage in my backpack and produce a book from one of my classes.

Lying back on my bed, I throw myself into the words, hoping as ever to find some interest and satisfaction in other people's lives, since my own is so goddamned empty.

= = = N = = =

I'm feeling exhausted again as I return to Rachael's building, leaving my new car parked a short distance away. It's a struggle to will the front door open, but I manage it, juggling my many packages. When I finally get to Rachael's door, I curse myself for so smugly leaving the keys within. I'd little guessed how weary I would become. I did far too much today.

Concentrating with one last effort, I slide the door's deadbolt back, and reach out a hand to open the door.

All is quiet within - no sounds or smells of dinner, at any rate. I'd believe the place empty, but I notice Rachael's boots by the door. I put my head briefly into the kitchen and don't find her, so I move to her bedroom, opening the door quietly.

Here she is, asleep with a book over her chest. And look at this bed! Gothic enough for Beryl herself. So big it nearly touches all four walls of the tiny room. This is certainly more like it! I will not endure that cramped sofa again.

My stomach is grumbling slightly. It's time she was up.

"Rachael," I say sharply, as if she were one of my subordinates back home.

She comes bolt awake and sits up, staring at me wide eyed and open mouthed.

"Whuh?" she says unintelligibly.

"Where can I put these clothes?" I demand, indicating to her the packages in my arms.

"What? WHAT???" she cries, opening her eyes even wider, moving forward towards me and grabbing the heavy wooden footboard.

"You said I could stay here," I remind her sternly, "And I shall. Find a place for these clothes, and then get on with dinner. I'm bloody starving."

She sputters at me a moment in obvious rage, trying to produce some words. She does not speak though, not right away...not until she has calmed herself down. But when she finally does answer, it's through clenched teeth.

"You ARE welcome to stay here. But I'm not your personal fucking servant! You hang your own things up, in the closet - there! And I would be HAPPY to make us some dinner!"

She jumps down from the high bed, chin high, eyes still blazing at me, then storms from the room, slamming the door behind her.

I don't pursue her, having gotten her to agree to prepare the meal - this being the greatest of my current desires. Yet I rest a moment against the footboard, my eyes narrowed, wondering how to deal with her.

She can't continue to take that tone with me. It infuriates and affronts me, and eventually I'll lose my temper and discipline her. She deserves a warning first...I'll have to give it to her tonight.

I decide to rest until dinner. Putting down my packages, I lie down almost blissfully on the wonderfully soft bed. My thoughts and feelings fade, and I quickly begin to half doze.

After a short while, I hear Rachael ease open the bedroom door and walk quietly to the bedside, plainly believing me asleep. She doesn't move for a long time, standing silently by my side. I finally steal a glance at her, opening my eyes as narrowly as possible. She's gazing at me with such a strange mixture of rage and longing, the edges of my mouth twitch upwards uncontrollably.

"You're awake," she observes, not pleased and slightly embarrassed.

I smile more broadly. I can't help it - she's very amusing.

"Dinner's ready," she states sullenly, and turns her back and marches from the room.

...

Dinner is a slightly sombre affair. Rachael is not speaking to me, outside of bare necessities. She has put on the radio to fill the awkward silence between us. Local news is being reported, and I smile over the announcement of a major bank robbery. A great deal of money missing, apparently, and no clue as to how it was taken.

I must be looking smugly satisfied, for Rachael looks up at me and her eyes narrow...though probably more out of ill temper than any suspicion.

Dinner is delicious, again - a dish she calls 'Hunan chicken' which leaves my lips burning slightly. I must admit that the fare here is infinitely better than back home. I would compliment Rachael, were she not looking so resentful and taciturn. It's time to deal with her, I think.

I finish my glass of welcomingly cool water and push myself away from the table. Shutting off the noise of the radio, I turn to Rachael. She's watching me, angry eyes widened, obviously wondering what's coming.

Seeing little point in putting it off, I reach down and take her wrist, pulling her struggling to her feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" she blazes at me, then, in the same tone, "Where are we going?"as I pull her firmly along with me, out of the kitchen.

"To have a discussion," I answer her, grabbing her other wrist to stop her from hitting me again. We move through into the bedroom and I kick the door shut behind me.

"Stop struggling, Rachael," I grunt between set teeth, for she is fighting against me for all she's worth. "I'm not going to hurt you, if you calm down. I said we're going to talk."

"We could have 'talked' in the kitchen!" she points out angrily, still pulling at her restrained hands.

"It might prove to be a long discussion," I observe, growing frustrated. "We'll be more comfortable in here."

"I'll bet," she snaps.

"Enough!" My restrained temper begins to flare up. "Sit down and be quiet, woman, or you'll be sorry."

I release her hands abruptly and she spins around to face me.

"I won't! This is my home! You can't tell me what to do!"

"I can and I will, and you will obey me. You must learn this, Rachael."

She is pushed beyond anger, I see, her mouth hanging slightly open, her eyes wide as saucers.

"You want me to stay, don't you?" I ask her bluntly, meeting her gaze. "Or shall I go?" I turn slightly and put my hand on the doorknob, raising my eyebrows in question.

She does not respond instantly, showing signs of mental struggle, but at last she shakes her head, her eyes almost pleading.

"Don't go," she says softly.

I turn back to her, dropping my hand again.

"I won't. I want to stay. But you must understand this relationship."

I step closer to her, and she backs away, running up quickly against the bed's footboard. I keep walking, until I'm standing very close to her.

"I'm your master now." I tell her quietly but firmly. "I find you a very pleasing companion, and I will stay here with you, but you must obey me and show me proper respect. If you don't, you'll be punished. Do you understand me? This is the only warning you'll receive. I have no patience with disobedience or recalcitrance."

She is shaking her head, showing some disbelief. Her eyes narrow at me in confusion and protest.

"I'm not...a slave!" she asserts is a soft, desperate voice. "I do want you to stay here...but I can't live like that."

"You have no choices, Rachael. I'm not asking for your approval. This is how it is, if I'm to stay. And I'm going to stay."

She shakes her head again, repeating, "I can't."

I reach forward and grasp her shoulders, quite tightly.

"The debate is over. You've asked me to stay. I've agreed. No more games. No more warnings. You've heard the rules."

"Let go of me," she demands. She really doesn't like being restrained.

"I'll touch you when I wish and how I wish. And you will not complain." I'm beginning to lose my temper. I had hoped this would be easier, but she's so headstrong.

"You won't," she warns me. "And I want you to leave. Now."

I exhale in annoyance and succumb to the inevitable.

"That's a lie, and insolence as well. It's time for a lesson."

I let her go then, moving over to her closet as she rushes to the door, hoping to escape. She discovers she can't, however - I'm holding the door shut with my rapidly waning energy. I search through her disorganized clothing and possessions until I find what I'm looking for - a good-sized leather belt.

She is yanking frenziedly on the door, growing very frightened for there is no lock and no reasonable explanation for why it will not open.

There is no chair here. The bed will have to suffice.

I step quickly over to her and grab her by the waist. She writhes and kicks and even tries to bite me, but I easily heft her into my arms and carry her to the bed. I sit down on its edge and with some struggle, lay her over my lap, but even as I do, I realize it will be too hard to hold her still. I pick her up again and throw her face first onto the bed and sit on her legs, pressing down on her back.

She is yelling now, nearly screaming...she'll certainly be screaming soon. I dig around to the front of her waist to unfasten her jeans, then yank both them and her black lace-edged panties beneath down, as best as I can one-handed.

"Don't!" she cries, "Please don't!"

"It's not nearly as convincing through clothing," I explain tersely.

"Please, Nephrite," she begs, more gently, genuinely afraid. "Don't beat me. I'll do as you wish."

"Too late, Rachael. Mere words." I fold the belt in my hand, getting a good grip on it.

"I mean it, I mean it!" she cries, her voice muffled against the blankets.

I did not rise to general by allowing insolence or showing pity. She must have her punishment.

"If you can take your medicine bravely, and not struggle or scream, I'll let you off with six." I know it's hopeless, though. Later, when she has learned her place, she will realize her own transgressions and accept her punishment...but now she simply needs to be taught who is master.

I raise my arm and bring the leather down with a snap on her beautiful soft bottom. She screams without hesitation, rolling and kicking harder, trying to get away.

"So be it, Rachael," I growl, leaning harder on her back and unleashing my anger on her, beating her without mercy.

After at least fifteen blows, her struggling and defiance is at last abating. She shrieks as the belt falls, but lies still otherwise, softly crying and accepting her miserable fate.

"Call me 'master'." I demand quietly, pausing a moment, belt raised again. She doesn't respond right away and I give her another and repeat my order. She screams in pain, but still does not obey.

I strike her again and again, cruelly aiming for the reddest spots, amazed at her continued defiance. What a will she has!

After at least ten more, I throw the belt violently across the room, furious at her, and at myself. This heartless beating is light years from the brief warning I'd intended to give her.

"Damn you, Rachael!" I thunder at her, then rake a hand through my hair in annoyance and exasperation.

I make an effort to calm myself down, still afraid, as I was a moment ago, that I might seriously hurt her in this rage. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, inhaling through my nose...

When I'm reasonably sane again, I open my eyes and take my hand off her back, running it lightly over her poor red backside. A few welts, but hopefully nothing that will stay.

I get off her legs and lie down beside her, staring at the ceiling perplexed.

It's only a word. One word! How can she be so bloody stubborn? Can she not say it, even without meaning it? Not even to end her agony? Why?

Maybe it's her remarkably strong independence. It might mean so much to her that she won't surrender it, or even pretend to.

Or perhaps...she might have a strangely clear sense of what it means to truly call someone master...to give herself to them wholly, in every sense. Perhaps she even desires this...so much so that she won't cheapen the title by using it falsely, not even in terrible pain.

I am intrigued by this notion, and feel more determined than ever to hear her speak that word, to win that title...but it seems I have to earn it, and that I can't beat it out of her. Not without substantial torture, anyway. I shall have to try another tack. If not pain...then perhaps pleasure?

Rachael's weeping has abated and finally stopped. She lies now not moving or speaking. Pity rises in me, but I fight it down. It was necessary. If we are to be together, she must change her ways. She must learn the price she'll pay for insolence.

"Get dressed for bed now," I order her softly.

She doesn't move for another few seconds, then lifelessly rises and pulls her jeans and panties all the way off. She strips off her shirt and bra also, keeping her back to me. She is so lovely, my breath quickens as I look upon her. I long to order her to turn around, but I decide she will see that as humiliation, and she's had enough of that for one day.

She slips the green dress of this morning over her head, and I feel slight encouragement with her progress. She knows that I like that dress, and has considered my pleasure first in her actions. But has she done it to please me, or to avoid my displeasure? There is a difference, and I want the former.

She turns now back towards me, her face still wet with tears, her eyes showing nothing but hopeless misery. Plainly she's lost sight of my original purpose and merely feels herself trapped and abused. She's taken her punishment...now she needs to be reminded why.

I stand up myself and remove my jacket, still watching her.

"You don't have to stand there," I tell her gently. "Go ahead and go to bed."

She pulls back the bed covers and lies down apathetically on her stomach, closing her eyes.

I remove the rest of my clothes, hanging them carefully, then climb slowly into bed next to her. She doesn't move or speak, but I see the muscles in her back and shoulders tense.

I reach gingerly over and run just my fingers along her back, then gradually more of my hand, in a massage, trying to calm the knotted muscles. I reach higher after a time, and run my fingers through her soft, shiny hair.

"Look at me?" I ask, not order, wishing to coddle her a bit now.

She does turn her head, though there's still very little expression in her eyes. I caress my hand over her face, wiping a tear from her cheek, running my thumb along her jaw line.

"I'm going to take you now." I tell her quietly, holding her eyes. "I'm going to make you mine. I want you, very badly. And I know you want me. I wouldn't do this were I not very certain of that. You've wanted me since I came here. I know you're too angry with me to admit that, so you don't need to say anything...just don't fight me, Rachael."

She doesn't speak, but her eyes glint with hostility and resentment. It seems she will resist, despite my speech. Why am I not surprised?

I move close to her, steeling myself for the battle. I take her shoulder and pull her onto her side, then draw her hard against me.

"Stop it," she says, still ordering, but with much less defiance in her voice than before her beating.

I use one hand to grab her jaw, and put my mouth on hers, muting her protests. Moving my hand behind her head, I press her lips hard against mine. She struggles harder, but she can't get away from me. All her writhing does is arouse me further. I move my tongue into her sweet mouth, exploring and stroking, running it along hers as she tries fruitlessly to keep it from me.

Then without warning, Rachael bites - closing her teeth hard over my outstretched tongue, drawing blood and filling my mind with pain and rage. With a stifled roar of fury, I quickly move both hands to her ass, squeezing the tender flesh mercilessly.

She screams, opening her mouth and releasing me as she does so.

"Bitch!" I growl at her, throwing her onto her back now, no longer caring about her comfort. She arches her hips, lifting her bottom off the sheets, trying to escape the pain. I grind my pelvis against hers, forcing her back against the bed.

Recovering my temper very slightly, I press her shoulders down hard and glare at her, my face inches from hers.

"Be careful, Rachael," I warn her, icily. "I can hurt you, if that's what you desire...more than you could ever imagine. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Her eyes widen as anger turns to fear, but she has the courage to speak accusingly.

"No, I don't! I took you in and gave you all I could, out of kindness!  And you reward this by treating me like a slave, and beating the hell out of me! And now you're going to rape me? You're right - I have no idea who or what you are!"

I smile somewhat evilly at this, and gentle my voice a bit.

"It's not rape, Rachael, however much you struggle. You want it as much as I do."

And I do. My passion returns to me with a vengeance as she lies beneath me looking so beautiful and helpless.

"I do not!" she spits indignantly, "I want you to get off me and go away and never come back!"

Her brave defiance is abruptly replaced however by a sharp, startled intake of breath as I slide my hand down between her legs, exploring her dripping wetness. I turn my eyes to hers, smiling again.

"You seem to be lying."

"I'm not, I'm..." She stops in mid sentence, this time to gasp again in shock and undisguisablepleasure as I move two fingers within her effortlessly, spreading them and stretching her - getting her ready for me.

"Stop it...," she groans, and I almost have to laugh at the irony between her words and the hunger in her tone. "More" is what she means, and I'll certainly oblige her.

I withdraw my fingers and bring them to my mouth, tasting her and holding her eyes as I do so, smiling at the shiver of lust that goes over her. She moans again, undeniably in wanting, and her cheeks colour in shame.

"Rachael, why are you so damn stubborn?" I demand, bringing my face down to hers, kissing her cheek, then her forehead, then her ear... "Why can't you cry out? What does it hurt? All it means is that you want me, and we both already know that."

She doesn't reply but inhales sharply again as I pull her dress up out of my way and take her full breasts in my hands.

I find myself moaning as well, appreciatively, squeezing and stroking then sliding my hands along her delightful hourglass curves from breast to narrow waist to wide round hips.

"You're so beautiful." I murmur truthfully, bending my head to take a hardened nipple into my mouth.

Rachael cries out, presumably trying to protest and failing miserably. I glance up at her and her eyes are closed in an agony of bliss. Smiling to myself, I move to the other side, my fingers pulling and pinching gently the nipple I've just left. Rachael arches her chest upwards toward me in response.

Nearly ready, I think self satisfied. But I don't say anything. It's too soon yet - she's not far enough gone.

Slowly, I trail my tongue down, over her ribs, over her soft stomach, and finally between her legs.

"No...," Rachael protests, all the while thrusting herself closer to me, begging for more. "Stop this. Oh god..."

In response, I move my mouth to her clit, flicking my tongue teasingly over it at first, listening to her contradictory cries, then sucking and drawing on it more insistently, holding her hips as she tries to pull away.

"Oh god...," she pants again, tossing her head in resistance. "Oh god oh god oh god..."

"'God' is more than I'm asking for," I comment darkly, stopping myself before she reaches ecstasy - hopefully just a hair span before. "'Master' will do."

I keep one hand caressing her as I move my face back up to hers. My fingers brush over her centre every few seconds, keeping her desire raging but not giving her as much as she needs.

"Bastard," she moans sadly, writhing in unfulfilled desire.

"Close," I answer, unable to keep from grinning at the rhyme. "But that's not it."

I kiss her again, hungrily, forgetting my lesson and snaking my tongue within her mouth. She doesn't bite me this time, however, but meets my tongue with her own, circling round mine slowly, then tightening her lips around it and sucking gently. I inhale deeply in startled pleasure.

We break our kiss, and I pull back slightly. She looks at me, a little shyly but with the ghost of a seductive smile. She reaches her head up to meet my lips again and I press back against her. She kisses me now with as much passion as she fought me with earlier, and I'm filled with an answering rush of desire and relief. I feel myself growing harder still, and becoming sore from the delay. I must have her soon...

She breaks away and begins kissing my chin, and ears, and neck - running her fingers through my hair, moaning vaguely in the back of her throat. I feel her hand now on my cock, moving unsurely, gingerly stroking. I catch her eye and she is looking at me questioningly, blushing slightly.

"Yes," I encourage, hoarsely, "That's it, Rachael. Don't stop."

In response, she begins to stroke my entire length and to my considerable pleasure, pushes me to lie on my back, then lowers her hot mouth upon me as I comply.

I cannot help groaning as she takes me within her, teasing the tip of her tongue along my length, drawing hard on me as she lifts her head back.

"Mmmmm..." she moans, as if in ecstasy, creating delicious vibrations and causing my whole body to tense in pleasure and expectation.

"Rachael...," I manage, reaching down to grasp her shoulders, pulling her towards me. "Enough. Come here."

But she does not release me, defiantly sucking harder and causing me sweet torment.

"Please...," I find myself begging, getting far too close...and suddenly a light goes on in my mind. I look down at her, eyes widened in something like anger.

"You conniving wench!" I admonish her, hauling her off me and up to my face. To my surprise, she does not look contrite, but smiles broadly, infinitely pleased with herself. I find I cannot help echoing her smile.

"Stubborn and sly...," I reflect aloud, returning her to her back and lifting her legs up to rest them on my arms, taking any weight off her sore bottom. "We'll see who gives in first."

She is still hot and wet, and I enter her easily, then push further with a thrust and a groan. She gasps slightly in pain, but doesn't otherwise discourage me. She is ungodly tight - I'm hardly halfway buried. Yet she doesn't seem to be a maiden. I felt no barrier give.

I pull back slightly, then plunge again, deeper than before. She cries out in pain and pleasure, begging me on. This position is a mistake, I think - it's my favourite, but it spares her nothing. I'm so big for her she's almost hurting me.

I withdraw entirely, then move to take her legs off me, but she grabs my forearms firmly, and replaces my hands on her hips.

"Don't," she says resolutely. "Don't gentle yourself for me."

"It will hurt you," I tell her, meeting her serious glance.

"Hurt me, then," she says, closing her eyes as if in preparation. "I didn't ask you to stop." She half smiles again suddenly and reopens her eyes. "You know, you're bloody annoying. You go on when I beg you to stop, then stop when I beg you to go on!"

I smile briefly back at her, amused, then bend down to kiss her, long and slow and hard, washing away our brief frivolity, and reigniting our passion. I slide myself back inside her, moving forward slowly, then pressing deeply when I'm halted.

"Mmm, yes." Rachael sighs against my face. "Go on..."

I do, starting a slow rhythm of long drawn out strokes, getting gradually further and faster by degrees.

"Yes," she begs softly, her cheek pressed against mine, her face hidden...buried in my hair. "Make me yours, as you promised. Pleasure yourself, Nephrite, my lord. Give me all of you."

Her words, and my sudden victory, send a spasm of vicious lust through me, and I almost lose myself. As Rachael deviously intended, I am in no way capable of denying myself much longer, and I thank the stars I held back long enough to outlast her stubborn will. I increase my tempo and my force, pounding into her, again and again. Rachael lays her head back on the pillow and arches her back. I know I must be hurting her, but her cries are all of passion and none of protest.

She is crying out now continually, begging me for release, and my own breath is starting to come short. I slide one hand over her stomach and down, between us, caressing her, and she suddenly goes over the edge, arching her whole body in pleasure, and crying my name, squeezing me impossibly tighter within her. I plunge back with even greater difficulty through her tightly contracting muscles, and can take it no more.

A rush of exquisite power and pleasure surges through me, and I grab her hips, slamming into her one last time, as deeply as I possibly can. My body and spirit throb with energy as my orgasm takes me, and I pour myself into her, filling her, losing myself. I slip her legs off me and fall onto her chest, reaching my arms behind her to press her against me, wishing our bodies could melt together.

I close my eyes, savouring the ecstasy, and I'm blissfully unaware for a few minutes that Rachael is limp in my arms. As the haze of pleasure gradually fades, I at last notice that her head lolls and her arms hang relaxed. Slightly alarmed, I call her name gently, withdrawing myself and moving off her chest. She still breathes, thank mercy, but she's quite unconscious.

I lie down alongside her, pulling up the blankets to cover and warm us, then reach a hand to her cheek, patting it lightly, still calling her name.

I'm needled by guilt. Was I too rough for her? I don't think so...she begged for me, and didn't complain. She didn't even have all my weight upon her...

Rachael at last begins to groan softly, to my infinite relief, and I embrace her thankfully, pulling her over onto my chest. I sternly remind myself that we are very different...I believe my energy surge must have knocked her senseless.

Rachael is moaning now, dreamily, snuggling her soft hair and face against my chest. I find her face with my hands and pull it to mine to kiss her deeply and gratefully. She drinks me in, and smiles when I pull away.

"You're all right?" I confirm, running my fingers through the boyish bangs over her forehead.

"God, yes...," she almost purrs, snuggling her head back down onto my chest, plainly feeling sleepy.  She moans again, languidly, as I ease her onto my shoulder, and wrap my arms around her, settling us down to rest.

I close my eyes, and once again notice the light. Without thinking I will it off, and with Rachael's warm, soft body in my arms, and our mingled scents in my nostrils, I drift quickly off to exhausted, sated slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a disturbing chapter to many readers because they think I am justifying a rapist's horrible excuse - that somebody 'says no but means yes'. I want to be clear that I am IN NO WAY justifying rape. I'd like to underline that what Nephrite did is absolutely rape, and therefore incredibly wrong, no matter how Rachael reacted. 
> 
> But part of this story is exploring an evil character's motivation and transformation. The confusion here is that we see this from Nephrite's point of view, and he does not see himself as evil, so has no problem with his actions. It is Rachael's specific character and particular...preferences...that make her respond the way she does. I am honestly portraying HIS thoughts and actions, and HERS - and letting them stand there, for the reader to make of what they will. 
> 
> Sanjouin Masato, by the way, is the name Nephrite used for the rich playboy businessman front he maintained during his mission (ridiculously translated in the dub as "Maxfield Stanton").


	5. Chapter 5

= = = R = = =

I wake slowly and groggily, as usual.  My head is resting on something hard and warm, and moving slightly.  Opening my eyes reluctantly, I realize it is Nephrite's broad chest I'm lying upon.  My mind reels with remembrance and disbelief, then swiftly with shame and fury.

Admittedly, thoughts of the passion we shared, and even the fact that I am here now, touching his magnificent body, all cause a toe-curling thrill of lust to rush through me.  But in my heart and mind, I am confused…extremely confused. 

I don’t understand his obsession with breaking my will and humiliating me.  Nor do I understand or forgive him for beating me.

I move carefully off him, desperate not to wake him, my resentment growing as I accidentally put weight on my bottom.  It’s quite dark in the bedroom, the light from the small window suggesting very early morning.  The word 'light' wanders through my brain and I realize casually that the light was on when I fell asleep.  Nephrite must have been up and turned it off.  I glance at the switch and narrow my eyes as I notice it is still 'up'.  Walking over quietly, I feel it, expecting it to be halfway switched or some such thing - but it is not.  It’s pushed all the way up.

Burned out, I guess…that was handy.

I switch it off, then flick the switch up again to confirm my theory, but the light does come on.  I turn it off again hurriedly, fearing it will wake Nephrite, feeling increasingly perplexed and panicky. 

I move to the door and open it as silently as possible, but as I do, I remember beating at it and pulling on it last night to no avail.  My stomach turns over in fear as I check the door and frame pro forma, knowing I'll find no clue or explanation.

I glance back over my shoulder at Nephrite - powerful and arrogant, even asleep, and I'm very frightened indeed.

I've got to go. I've got to get away from him.

I was going to have a shower, which I very much need, but my mind urges me to waste no time and go - now, while it’s still remotely possible.

"Go where?" I ask myself forlornly, standing torn in the doorway, scared and miserable.

Just get dressed, Rachael.  Now!

I hurry to obey, picking up my clothes from yesterday item by item, pulling them on with shaking hands.  My jeans are pure agony over my raw backside.

I watch Nephrite as I dress, my heart racing in anger and terror, and desperate wanting.  He is so gorgeous…so strong…

My body begins to melt as I gaze at him, but my mind's voice cracks like a whip through my brain.

Out, Rachael!  Out the door!

I move silently out of the bedroom, walking on my toes almost.  I briefly consider getting some food, but my mind won't allow it.  I creak open the damn closet door and grab my coat and purse.  I scoop up my boots and go to unlock the door.  It is already unlocked.

Now I am beyond frightened, for I know for certain that I locked the door behind me when I came in yesterday.  I always always do, being more than a little paranoid.  How then did Nephrite get in?  He left his keys on the table.

“Go, Rachael.  Now,” my mind repeats, sounding much less brave and not a little terrified.

I open the door with the barest sound and leave it open behind me as I race to the stairwell.  Pausing to struggle into my jacket, I leave my boots off for now and run down the concrete stairs in just my socks, my heart in my mouth.

When I get to the ground floor, I push the heavy door open and gasp the chilly morning air, my lungs heaving.  Not feeling safe yet, at all, I run down the back lane that the door opens onto, and keep running, for blocks and blocks, turning occasionally until I'm too tired to go on. 

Panting, I lean against the wall of the high building beside me, then slide exhaustedly down to sit, right on the sidewalk, despite the pain this causes me.  Being down here anyway, I at last put on my boots, looking about me a bit now.  People are starting to move about on the streets and sidewalks, and a few cast strange glances as they step around me.  I ignore them but feel glad of their reassuring presences.

When I have my boots tied and my breath back somewhat, I stand up and continue moving away from my building, but at a walk now, my mind beginning to work again.

Where the hell am I going?  Where can I go?  It's not as if I can just take a holiday!  That movie yesterday and the extra groceries put me way over budget already…

I fight back a wave of despair as I look over the skyline.  I've lived here for almost a year now, but I still don't know the city that well.  In the days, I'm okay, but at night, I'm always frightened.  I usually teach until late and must walk a fair ways home…but I usually walk through the park, hoping no one would be intent on evil in such a peaceful place.  Of course, that's where I found Nephrite.  Although admittedly, he wasn't intent on evil…not at first, anyway.

Thinking of Nephrite and of that night I met him, the irony of my position strikes me.  Now I’m the one lost and helpless with nowhere to go… Who will help me, I wonder? 

Come on, Rachael!  Toughen up.  You're not helpless.  You're not ill, and it's not raining.  You've got an entire day to find a plan.  You've been on your own since you were eighteen, you can get through this!  Deal with some pragmatics! 

Okay - I need food. I need shelter.  And somewhere to sleep.  And I can't pay for any of it!  A church?  A homeless shelter?  These options don't appeal to me at all, and I furrow my brow thinking, stopping a moment before I walk in front of a car in my abstraction. 

Finally a plan comes to me.  I will live at the university, of course.  It's a perfect idea.  I know it inside out and it will feel just like home.  I'll sleep in the library.  I can even shower in the gym locker room.  I'll live on cheap cafeteria soup and noodles.  I'll be fine.  So there, Nephrite!

= = = N = = = 

I’m woken late, by the growing sunlight in Rachael's bedroom.  I stretch lazily, loving this bed and its size and softness.  Rachael is up, I notice casually.  Hopefully she's started something for our breakfast. 

I sit up and turn to rest my feet on the floor.  My packages still lie here, not yet unpacked.  Rachael will have to do as she was told and hang these things up. 

I stand and stretch again, feeling rested and energetic, and lecherous after last night's dalliance with Rachael.  My mind runs over the events of last night, and I wonder how she’s feeling today. 

I leave the bedroom as I ponder this, headed for a shower - and there’s my answer.  She has gone.  Not just gone - fled. The front door stands open as a testament to her hurried exit. 

Cursing, I move to slam the door then lean against it, thinking. 

This is my own fault.  Absolutely.  You can’t half tame a spirit like hers, then trust her to hang around.  Yes, she called me lord, but that was only her body talking.  It's her mind I have yet to conquer. 

This is the worst time to let her get away, too.  She'll be smarting for days from her punishment - and that will fuel her resentment.  Who knows when she'll be back.  As stubborn as she is, maybe never!  And yet, of course she has to.  All her clothes and things are here.  How long can she be without them? 

I glance over her small apartment and meagre possessions and feel a twinge of worry and guilt.  Where will she go?  Perhaps she has friends or family to stay with…yet I remember her telling me yesterday how alone and far from home she also was.  What will she do - for food, for shelter? 

Guilt grows in me - an unaccustomed emotion…it makes me uncomfortable, and then angry. 

Rachael is stubborn - easily the most stubborn person I've ever encountered, human or otherwise.  And if she's stubborn to the point of starving herself, then it's her own fault and her own problem. 

Dismissing the matter from my mind, I go and shower, then dress, choosing some new clothes from my still unpacked parcels.  Growling slightly, I give in to the inevitable and hang up my own new clothes, shoving Rachael's with difficulty to one side of the small jam-packed closet. 

This place is ridiculous!  I hate it here.  No one should have to live like this, let alone me. 

I realize then that I haven’t tried yet today to cross home, and for the first time I hesitate a moment, wondering if I'm successful, whether I'd be able to return here. 

The not knowing is too much for me and I do clear my mind and try - but I fail, as usual.  My disappointment is not as great at the failure as it was yesterday or the day before.  Could it be that I'm learning to like it here?  I don’t think so… 

I wander into the kitchen to find something to eat, considering.  It's Rachael.  That's what's keeping me here.  Taming her is proving an adequate distraction…but it is a distraction.  Underneath it - what purpose do I have?  None.  No purpose and no place here. 

My spirits sink and I grow melancholy.  I regard the knife I used to cut my orange and pick it up, looking it over appraisingly.  

Shall I end this now?  Can I find any reason not to? 

Rachael would probably get a nasty fright when she finally returned, to find me dead in her kitchen.  She'd probably feel guilty as well. 

I think about her a moment, still toying with the knife, testing its edge gingerly against my fingertips.  She is so strange…so human and incomprehensible to me.  The way she looked at me - so much yearning and hunger.  It wasn't all physical, I'm certain.  She's lonely.  But – she’s not desperate.  She won't take me at any price.  She has her pride. 

I have to respect that.  I'm also baited yet again.  How do I win her?  I have to find her first.  And I will.  But for that I'll need some help. 

. . . 

I'm going to have to rob another bank if this keeps up. 

It’s been a difficult day of cajoling and desperate bribery, but I have finally managed to find a new apartment - and I have paid very dearly.  

It's worth it though.  I'm pleased and soothed as I move around the spacious luxuriant suite.  The ceilings are high and the windows huge…plenty of room for Rachael's antique bed in the master bedroom…gorgeous bathroom with a tub big enough for two at least…a spacious kitchen for Rachael to cook in.  Of course, I have to get her here first. 

Thinking this, I move through the bright glassed-in sunroom out to the large patio.  I scan the horizon, satisfied.  This is the tallest building around - no obstructions to the sky…to the stars.  This should do very well. 

The pool beside me sparkles and flashes beckoningly in the glaring sun. 

Why not?  I can’t go out anyway.  I've got to be here when the movers arrive. 

I strip off my clothes and dive in, loving the initial shock of the water.  I skim along the bottom, then bend and break the surface, porpoise-like.  I begin to swim in earnest, back and forth across the pool, pushing myself hard.  I must, at least, retain my physical strength. 

When I finally tire, I pull myself up on the pool's edge and lie down, letting the sun dry me.  Thankfully I feel sleepy and let myself drift off.  I’ll need to be wakeful tonight… 

… 

By dusk, the movers have come and gone.  I wander through the apartment – Rachael’s sparse furniture only making the place look more empty.  

I’m hungry.  I suppose I must find a restaurant. 

I move out onto the patio, looking out over the huge city. 

Where are you, Rachael?  What the hell are you doing?  You should be here. 

I close my eyes and sense…trying to find her as I found Naru-chan…but I can’t.  I seem to have had more power when I was without form.  Having a body seems to take up a good deal of energy. 

I sigh in frustration, opening my eyes, then raising them to the sky.  Not dark enough…but it will be in a few hours.  I’ll go and eat, and then we’ll see if we can’t find Rachael. 

= = = R = = = 

It’s getting dark now.  I stare at the sky through the window beside my study desk.  They’ve just given the first warning that the library’s closing soon.  Time to hide, I guess. 

I get up with relief, my backside killing me.  It hurts so much to sit down...but my feet were sore from all the walking today.  I go into the bathroom stealthily, when no one is around.  All the remaining students have headed for the elevator anyway.  Once in the bathroom, I move down to the last stall, and step up onto the toilet, crouching down to hide my head, and leaving the door open.  I’ve seen this in movies before...it has to work. 

I stand here for ages, my back and legs complaining more and more stridently.  Two more announcements come.  All is silent otherwise.  Nobody’s come in.  Perhaps this drama is unnecessary.  

At last, my suspense is ended and the lights go out abruptly, leaving me in total darkness.  I climb carefully down, then find my way through the bathroom, my hands outstretched, feeling my way.  Finally finding the door, I pull it open.  The room outside is as daylight in comparison – the windows letting in the dusk and the glowing lights of the city. 

I move slowly past the rows of books, unable to keep from running my fingers over them in affection.  Walking to the corner, where there is an empty space without shelves or desks, I step up to the glass walls, looking down at the city beneath my feet, feeling slight vertigo, as if falling or floating. 

I feel, as I suspected, curiously at home here, surrounded by books.  The familiar dusty smell of old pages and leather...the scent of knowledge.  I smile, fancying myself Queen of Books, Empress of History, and this, my castle...but I am under siege. 

I touch the glass, then lean my forehead against it, thinking of Nephrite.  A strange yearning fills me as I unwisely rerun last night’s events in my mind. And suddenly, I am desperate to see him again. To go back and beg his mercy. To feel his touch again, whatever the cost. 

Rachael!  This is the kind of relationship you see warnings about – classic domestic violence! 

That’s true.  It’s exactly like that.  And I’ve never understood the women who stay.  Until now.  I always swore I’d never let anyone beat me.  Obviously that was a foolish resolution!  The question is...would I let it happen twice?

No. 

The answer finally does come, but not easily or lightly.  My whole body is in rebellion, begging to return to its master.  It’s only with extreme difficulty that my mind asserts its authority.  

I won’t go back.  I won’t.  He’s treated me terribly, and there’d be worse to come, I’m certain.  I don’t need a person like that, no matter how lonely I am. 

I step back from the window where night has come on in earnest outside.  Clouds cover the sky.  I think a storm is brewing. 

I lay down on my belly, finding just enough space to do so, and rest my head on my arms.  My earlier pride and pleasure at my splendid independence has evaporated.  I now merely feel alone and displaced.  I indulge myself in tears for a while, and it works out for the best, tiring me out.  Soon, with little effort, I manage to fall into a miserable sleep. 

= = = N = = = 

When I step out of the restaurant and find it raining, a terrible fury grips me, and for a moment I clench my fists and close my eyes, fighting to restrain my temper.               

“Patience,” I admonish myself.  “There’s no hurry.  You, of all people, have nothing but time.” 

I take a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated huff, casting a last annoyed glance at the thick clouds covering the sky. 

What else can I do?  I can’t sleep anymore.  I’m full of restlessness and my mind is whirling with unsolvable questions. 

I glance up and down the street and notice the neon sign of a bar a short way along.  Decision made.  That’s precisely what I need.  

Coming out of the rain, I find the crowded bar hot and stuffy.  Loud voices and louder music assail my ears.  I make my way past tables to take a seat at the bar.  

“What can I get you?” the barman shouts at me, over the din.  

I’m staring up undecided at the wall of spirits behind him, bottles of every description sparkling on the shelves.  

“Brandy,” I tell him at last, paying him ten times what it could possibly cost.  “The best you’ve got.” 

A girl seated beside me stares, undisguised.  I stare back.  She’s apparently here with the young man on her right, but she has no eyes for him.  She’s watching me, fascinated. 

She’s very young. Certainly older than Naru-chan was when I left her, but still with that bright-eyed innocence and vivacity.  She’s definitely Japanese – long, shiny black hair and beautiful, wide brown eyes.

The barman returns to me, bearing an elegant square glass bottle, carved and faceted to catch the light.  He pours me a glass and I take it eagerly, cradling the rounded glass in my hand, swirling the amber liquid and inhaling luxuriantly. 

“Are you going to drink it or make love to it?” my neighbour asks me, smiling enticingly. 

“What’s wrong with a little foreplay?” I ask her, an eyebrow raised.  

She giggles naughtily as I take an appreciative swallow.  I glance beyond her to her ‘boyfriend’, and I’m delighted by his increasingly murderous expression.  

In a few moments, as I finish the glass, the barman comes by again, asking me what I thought.               

“It’s wonderful,” I almost sigh, then look up to him.  “Let me have the rest of the bottle.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. 

“Not for now,” I clarify.  “To take with me.” 

He shakes his head now, understanding. 

“Sorry.  Can’t do that. I’ll lose my license.” 

A surge of temper goes through me and I find it difficult to fight it down.  I could destroy him, but it would cause a scene – police, certainly witnesses.  I intend to stay in this city for now. A manhunt would be inconvenient. 

Money, of course.  I’ve learned that lesson already.  A man can have anything here, if he’s prepared to pay for it.  Everyone can be bought. 

This fellow proves no exception.  Once enough bills have been stacked on the bar, his high moral code vanishes and the bottle reappears.  

I pour my own refill, looking over at the girl.  I call for another drink for her, noting her empty glass. 

“She happens to be here with me!” 

Finally, the boyfriend has spoken up.  I lean forward a bit to see past her to him.  He’s young too, though not as young as she.  He looks strong and fit.  Excellent.

“You could have fooled me,” I tell him, glancing down at her unabashedly.  For her part, she doesn’t seem upset by the friction, rather she’s pleased and flattered.  She sips her fresh drink daintily, glancing slyly from one to the other of us.

I finish my brandy, and pour another, impressed by its obvious potency.  I feel wonderful - strong, and even happy.  I haven’t felt this good since Beryl put me in charge.   All my worries of why and wherefore have vanished.  Even the thought of Rachael doesn’t bother me.  Why worry about her when I’ve got this young thing here, smiling at me as if I were the answer to all her prayers?

My rival looks less pleased than I, glowering at his drink and casting warning glances at me.  It won’t take much more.  Just a little nudge. 

I take my glass in my left hand, and drape the other arm around the girl’s slim shoulders. 

“A toast?” I suggest.  But that’s as far as I get.  Her friend shoves my arm off her back, springing to his feet. 

“Don’t touch her!” he shouts at me, fists clenched.

I shoot back the rest of the brandy, regretting having to rush it, then pull back the lady’s head by her soft black hair and kiss her invasively.  She doesn’t resist one molecule.  Her boyfriend is another story.

He grabs me by my clothes and, to my surprise, is able to pull me away from her and off my barstool.  I don’t fall, but as I’m standing, he lands an impressive blow to my face.  My head turns, but I don’t move otherwise.  I glance back at him, unable to keep from smiling in anticipation.

“Outside!!” begs the barman, seeing impending destruction.

“Of course,” I agree, not taking my eyes off my opponent.  “After you.”

Grudgingly, he turns and moves to the door.  The girl has risen to her feet, looking flushed with excitement.  I motion to my brandy bottle.

“Carry that for me.”

Outside, surrounded by eager onlookers from the bar, my friend is waiting on the sidewalk, fists raised like a prize fighter.  I smile again, probably to his annoyance.  Quickly removing my expensive jacket, I hand it to our lady, then raise my own hands before I get another shot to the face.

He’s so angry.  This will be too easy.  Typical human – can’t control his emotions.  I calm my own mind, circling slowly round him, waiting for him to come at me.

He doesn’t attack right away, perhaps not as rash as I judged him.  I can fix that.

 “I don’t know why you’re so angry with me,” I taunt.  “I can’t help it if your little girl comes on to strange men right in front of you.  I’m hardly going to turn down a piece like her.”

He grimaces and takes a shot at me, but I move aside easily.  He tries another, aimed at my stomach, and I let him land this one, bracing myself as he hits me.  I use his closeness to give him a good right jab, sending him flying back.

When he recovers, stepping forward again, his lip is bleeding.  My heart beats faster, adrenalin rushing through me.  I love this.  If only he were more of a challenge.  I’m bigger than he, and obviously stronger.  Yet, he doesn’t give up. Used to winning, plainly.

I catch sight of the young lady, standing in the small crowd, watching half in dread, half in excitement.  She imagines I’m doing this to win her!  Still...she’ll be a nice enough fringe benefit.

In the small moment my attention is on her, my opponent wisely uses the chance to give me another good shot to the jaw.  This one hurts, despite the alcohol and adrenalin.  My own temper flares up. 

Enough of this.  My turn now.

I wait as he moves slowly around me, holding back my rage, until the building is behind him.  I rush forward then, shoving him back.  With the wall behind him, he can’t manoeuvre away, and I let him have it – face and belly, again and again.  He manages to get in a feeble blow or two, but he’s no match for me.  He begins to slow then finally stops raising his hands, even in defence.

Fight, damn you!

“I hope you don’t mind if I take the lady home and give her what she so plainly desires.  You’re certainly in no condition to.”

“Fuck you,” he growls back, managing one more swing, but he’s finished.

I land one last uppercut to his chin, knocking his head heavily against the wall behind him, and down he goes.

I fight a surge of disappointment.  Too bloody easy.  I turn around eagerly to the crowd, hoping to find someone else that will take me on, but they disperse with alacrity, disappearing back into the bar now that the show’s over.  My young lady remains, clutching my jacket and brandy, and looking strangely nervous now.

I stare at her appraisingly as I calm myself down.  She is very pretty and delicate.  My appetite for battle is turning rapidly into lust.

I remember how I felt after I defeated Zoicite’s youma...staring at Naru-chan, my heart still racing, filled with this same hunger and lust...but it was different.  She looked so young, so innocent and pure...her eyes filled with that absurd hope and belief in my goodness.  It made me want to deserve it – to act honourably. 

I feel nothing of that now.  Without her, I feel the opposite - inclined to do precisely as I please.  To prove to myself, perhaps, how wrong she was...how I didn’t...don’t...deserve her.

I move to the girl and retrieve my jacket.  She doesn’t speak, watching wide-eyed as I put it on and straighten it. I put a hand on her waist and pull her slightly as I move off down the street.  She comes, but with a backward glance at her friend’s prone figure.

“Will he be all right?” she asks in a quiet voice.

“Who cares?” I tell her dismissively, not looking back.  “You’re mine now.”

She glances up at that, looking frightened, with a very small echo of Rachael’s defiance in her eyes.  She says nothing, though, and walks obediently with me until we reach my car.

She’s obviously impressed by it, breaking from my grasp to walk around it excitedly.  I stand by the hood, arms crossed, watching her.  My desire is growing by the second.  I haven’t felt this way in a long time.  Working for Beryl and fearing for one’s neck has a way of negating any carnal interests.  But last night with Rachael has reawakened me with a vengeance.

Rachael tries to linger in my thoughts, but I dismiss her angrily.  The girl completes her circuit of the car and moves to stand before me, looking expectant and nervous.  I take my precious bottle from her and set it gently on the curb.  I realize I haven’t yet asked her name, but I don’t care.  Pleasantries are not what I want from her.

I reach forward and take her jaw, bending to pull her face to mine.  She kisses me back hungrily, giving me her tongue when I seek for it.  I run my hands along her slender form, pressing her against me. 

I want her now.  I can’t wait.

Holding her slim shoulders, I lower her down to my car’s low flat hood.  She realizes my intention and begins to struggle vaguely.

“Stop it,” I demand, having absolutely no patience at the moment.  I push her dress up, but she struggles more.  I reach down and encircle her throat with my hand.

“Be still,” I order sternly.  “I said you’re mine now.  I’ll do what I like with you.”  I bring my face lower to hold her frightened eyes threateningly.  “Do you understand?”

She nods quickly, her pulse racing under my fingers.  Keeping her throat, I can’t help myself from making my next demand.

“Call me ‘master’.”

“Master,” she responds automatically, with absolutely no understanding or truth.  Rachael has returned, unbidden, to my mind, and for a moment I see her beneath me, hear her calling me lord and meaning it with every fibre of her body.  Rachael knew what a master was.  This child hasn’t a clue.

I don’t care, I insist to myself.  I want obedience, and that’s good enough.

The girl lies quietly now, and I can’t wait any longer.  Freeing both of us of interfering clothes, I enter her quickly and forcefully, in no mood for preliminaries.  She cries out in pain, gripping my shoulders.

“Hush,” I tell her, paying her not much heed, thrusting deeply, enjoying myself.

“Stop.” She is crying, struggling again.  “Please.  You’re hurting me.”

“Just relax,” I tell her, annoyance in my voice.  I see Rachael beneath my hands again, taking the unavoidable pain so bravely.

The girl is screaming now, begging someone else to aid her.  Before I know what I’m doing, I reach a hand towards her and begin to draw her energy out.  The sensation silences her, reducing her to frightened moans.  Her energy floats in the air before me like a blue mist, and for a moment I’m in a quandary as to what to do with it.  Beryl no longer requires it...so why can’t I have it for myself?

Finding no reason not to, I draw it into my own body, and I’m filled with a delicious rush.  My feelings of frustration and weakness vanish and I drink the power in thirstily. 

The sensation is so exquisite that it pushes me physically over the edge and I fall upon the girl, overcome on all sides by mind-blowing pleasure.  I barely remember to stop the flow of her energy in time.  But I do, and she has survived.  Her heart still beats under my chest.

When I’ve recovered somewhat, I roll over and lie on my back, gazing up at the stars above me.  It takes me a moment before I realize that at last, the sky is clear.

I’ve got to get home.

I stand and tidy my clothes, then help the moaning girl to her feet.  Feeling slight pity suddenly, I touch a finger to her forehead and close my eyes, calling on the stars to clear her memories, and wishing the same for her boyfriend.  I feel the familiar force rush through me and into her, and to my relief, it doesn’t tire me.  I open my eyes again, and turn her back up the street.

“Go,” I tell her gently, giving her a slight push.  “Help your friend.”

She moves off slowly, back toward the unconscious figure by the bar, and retrieving my brandy from the curb, I get in my car, satisfied.


	6. Chapter 6

= = = N = = =

The stars are clear and cold above me.  I turn my face up to them and close my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.  A slight breeze ruffles my hair, and I inhale deeply, the air fragrant and crisp from the recent rain.  The noise of the streets far below is a distant hum, the quiet lapping of the water in the pool a soothing constant.

I clear my mind, opening myself to my beloved stars.  Feeling out to them.  Appreciating...nearly worshiping...their vast power, their inconceivable mass...their mind-numbing distance...until I feel a part of them. A part of their universal, timeless, limitless omniscience.

I turn a part of my mind then, gently, to Rachael.  Seeking for her...sensing out for her.

An image fills my mind...Rachael, lying face down in a dark place.  Sleeping in her clothes.  Her face wet with tears.  My mind grasps desperately at the picture, demanding more.

“Where?”  I mutter, frustrated.

But as emotion takes over, my focus shatters and the image fades.   Curses explode from me.  I bellow them at the silent stoic sky, venting all the fury, shame, injustice, impotence and thirst for vengeance I’ve felt since I died at Zoicite’s hands.

When my anger is finally spent, I fall to my knees dispiritedly, thinking of Rachael.  Analyzing every detail of the picture I saw.  Miserable, alone, and frightened.  Her beating clearly still hurting her.  Separated from everything she owns.  Because of me.  After she gave me all she could.  Her words of the previous evening sting my conscience. 

Guilt roars through me, such a new and horrible emotion.  I try to reason with it...to impose some calm over these racing thoughts.  It must be some human disease.  Since I’ve been among them, my thoughts are rebels – impossible to marshal. 

Firmly, I return myself to cool logic. 

I have to find Rachael.  It’s my fault she got away, and it’s my duty to help her.  I will not regret her beating – she earned that.  But she did not earn what she’s going through now.

I get back to my feet and cross my arms again, determined. 

I cannot stand this again, I know.  I haven’t the energy.  One of two things will happen.  I will die, or I will lose my form again, not having the energy to sustain it.  If the former, I’d accept that almost cheerfully now.  And if the latter, I know now that I’ll recover in time.  But I can’t just do nothing.

I turn myself over yet again to the stars, sensing out for Rachael with all the energy I possess, demanding to find her.  My mind turns hazy...and I at last feel her presence...dimly, like the light of a very distant star.  I begin moving towards her, not noticing how or why.  Keeping my focus locked on her.  I’m drawn, across the city...to a tall building...through the large windows...

...and here she is.  Asleep, as I saw her. 

I relax my intensity now, and notice my state – pure energy, once again.  How long will it last this time?

Sensing around me, I notice it’s a library, and curse my dimwittedness for not guessing that she’d be here.  I move closer to her, noticing with gruff tenderness how her bangs fall over her forehead, obscuring her eyes.  I long to brush them away, to dry the tears still shining on her cheeks.  It’s pure torture being a ghost.

I wish I could wake her.  Could I just...join her?  Would that be wrong?  I don’t care.

I move closer...and closer...

Suddenly I am transported to another place.  A green park, in the twin darkness of night and storm.  It’s so vivid, it takes me some time to realize it’s a dream.  Rachael’s dream.

Wind rattles the leaves as she walks, and rain drums on the umbrella she carries.  I know, somehow, that she’s coming home from night school, that she always walks this way.  She heads up a hill, and in the distance sees a figure seated on a bench, their back to her.  As we near, I realize that it’s me – hunched over strangely, my head down, my shoulders shaking as I weep. 

Rachael steps slowly round the bench, watching me.  Filled with desperate pity.  I glance up at her, startled and anguished, my hands clasped over my stomach, and then lift my hands to her...my white gloves scarlet...a wound in my abdomen pouring blood.  Rachael looks down...and sees a wicked-looking knife in her own hand.

Rachael’s body and mind revolt violently, and she writhes desperately to wake.  When she does, she’s panting and sweating, her heart racing wildly.  I’m a little shaken myself!

Her arms tingle uncomfortably beneath her, and she stands stiffly, the blood rushing painfully back.  She leans dejected against the window next to her, looking out at the night.  Her backside still stings viciously.  I feel it only fair that I should suffer from it too, having dealt it to her.

“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Rachael wonders to herself, her mind still on her nightmare.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” another part of her mind answers.  “Nephrite’s in trouble and you abandoned him.”

How easy her thoughts are to read.  Not just impressions or feelings, but clear dialogue one can easily eavesdrop on. 

“I’d forgotten how miserable he looked when I found him.  I was only thinking of myself when I left.  I’ve got to go back.”

“Go back?  And what?  Let him beat you again?  Or worse?”

“He won’t beat me if I do what he says,” she asserts, and I silently agree, wondering how I might get in on this conversation.

“Oh sure!  If I went back and played the perfect servant, everything would be fine!  But how am I supposed to do that?  I can’t!  Somebody tells me what to do, and I see red.  I can’t help it.  It's my nature.  Nephrite couldn’t have chosen a worse prospect for a servant.”

“People change,” I tell her quietly, trying to pass the comment off as her own thoughts.  “You could change too, if you wanted.”

“I suppose,” she answers grimly, mulling.  Emotions waft through her – so feminine and foreign to me.  “I could do that.  And goodbye self respect.”

“Well so much for that!  What’s self-respect ever gotten you?  Old and alone.  What have you got to lose?  I think it’s time you stopped waiting for Mr. Right and true-fucking-love.  I think you’d better take what you can get.”

Rachael’s self wilts at this harsh voice, and I find myself growing angry at this alter ego for being so severe with her.  Her thoughts are voiceless for a long time, her emotions warring silently.

"Once again, Rachael,” the harsh voice resumes at last.  “Will you go back?  Respect and obedience – that’s what he asked you for.  Can you handle that?  Anything he asks?”

“What could he demand now that I wouldn’t gladly do?” she reflects sadly.  “Iron his clothes?  Warm his bed?  I’ll pay any price.  If that’s how it must be...then I will.  I’ll do anything.  He wins.”

If I have won, it seems a very hollow victory.  I wanted her obedient, not broken.

“But what about the light, Rachael?  And the door?” 

Panic races over her as she considers these inexplicable events, evidence I sloppily failed to conceal.  Her mind is very logical.  No beliefs in religion nor magic.  Not a shred of explanation she can cling to.

“I don’t care,” she lies bravely.  “He needs me.  And he might be in trouble.  I’ve got to go back.”

She grabs her purse and marches off towards the elevator.  In a few minutes, she’s outside, running for all she’s worth through the dark campus, the fire door’s alarm clamouring in the distance.

I have to admire her spirit.  If she’s stubborn, she’s also bloody determined.  I could have wished for such determination on the part of my own warriors.

“Now what, genius?” Rachael demands of herself, slowing to a walk now, getting her breath back.  “How do we get home?”

She must have spent a long time alone to have developed this constant alter ego.  I suppose it always gives her someone to talk to.

"We walk.” She shrugs.  “It’s not so very far.”  Her matter-of-fact tone is a bluff, for I feel her rush of unease.  She doesn’t want to be abroad on the streets at this hour.  Having few options, however, she heads off, hoping to get home by morning.

. . .

It is early dawn when Rachael finally steps up to her door, turning the key fumblingly, exhausted and longing for her bed.  I have attempted throughout her journey to find some way to get her to the new apartment, but haven’t come up with anything.  I’m far from wakeful myself, and my thoughts are hazy. 

Opening the door, Rachael takes two steps inside, then gasps disbelievingly, the sound bouncing off the barren floors and walls.

“I don’t believe it,” she cries.  “He took everything?”  She looks up at the far wall and cringes with physical pain as she realizes her books are gone.  Tears of rage and remorse cloud her eyes as title after lost title occur to her, like old friends dying. 

“Why would he take them?  What would he have gotten for them?  And even the shelves?  It’s just spite, that’s all!”

A thought occurs to her, and she rushes desperately to her bedroom door, only to stand lifeless in the frame, her worst fears realized.  Her bed is gone.  Her beloved, huge, impractical bed.  The bed she bought with all the money her mother left in her will.  The bed she sees as her only link with her lost family.

She steps slowly to the middle of the floor, thinking disjointedly of all the things she believes gone forever.  Letters from far-away friends.  Pictures of her baby self and her barely remembered father.  Favourite clothes.  Her toothbrush.

This last thought sickly amuses her and she laughs like a lunatic.

“A toothbrush?” she cries aloud.  “I have NOTHING!  He’s left me absolutely nothing!  I’ll never replace it all.  There’s no way.  I can’t buy new things and food too.  He’s killed me, that’s all.  I’ll starve to death!”

She collapses on the filthy floor, weeping.  I’ve had enough of this.

“Rachael,” I tell her sternly, speaking in my own voice in her mind.  “Enough of this nonsense.”

She tenses suddenly, looking around the room huntedly, eyes narrowed in hatred.  Seeing nothing, she stands guardedly, and backs into a corner.

“I didn’t steal your things.  I moved them.  They’re at our new apartment.  I want you to go there.”

Rachael’s eyes widen as she realizes at last where my voice is coming from.  Her heart races in fear.  Not fear of me – fear for her own sanity.

“I’m hearing voices,” she whispers, whimpering slightly, holding her head in her hands.  “I’m losing my mind...”

It doesn’t occur to her that I could be anything but a delusion.  I can tell that arguing about it would be fruitless.  We’re both exhausted.  This is no time to try. There’s only one option.  I’ll transport us both to my apartment, using her energy.  If it kills us both, then so be it.

“Rachael,” I say again, as sternly and sharply as I can, hoping to cow her temporarily into obedience.  “Stand still and be quiet.”

In the instant that she complies, I stand her up straight, close her eyes, and concentrate with everything we have, willing us to the new apartment...to the bed...and to my relief, Rachael’s body dissolves into very bewildered energy.


	7. Chapter 7

= = = N = = =

This is nearly greater hell than being energy.  For an hour at least I’ve lain here awake, in Rachael’s body, unable to move, not even to open her eyes.  After a desperate bout of claustrophobia, I’ve managed to relax.  I’ve spent most of my time reflecting on my actions of yesterday.

I was an idiot to take that girl’s energy, and desperately lucky I wasn’t caught.  Surely those annoying senshi still guard this city.  If one of them had found me, I’d have been finished.  But then...it helped me find Rachael.  I’d never have had the energy without it.

A confused blur of semiconscious thoughts join mine.  Rachael is at last waking up.  Her side of this joining has been undetectable until now, she being too exhausted even to dream. 

With her effort and mine, we manage to open her eyes and see the familiar footboard of her bed, but then her eyes fall shut again.

“Where the hell am I?” Rachael asks in a groan of a thought.

Her feelings turn from confusion to fear and then to panic as she tries to move her body and can’t.

“Hush now,” I soothe her, as best I can, thinking in a quiet voice.  “You’ll be all right.  You’re just exhausted.”

A different tenor of fear takes over now.  That same terror as yesterday - that she’s lost her mind.

“You’re not insane, Rachael.  It’s me.  I’m here with you.  Sharing your energy.  Keeping you alive, at the moment.”

Thoughts flash through her brain.  Perhaps she’s still in the library, dreaming.  Maybe she hit her head.

I grow more frustrated.

“Why are you so stubborn?” I demand of her, not for the first time.  “I’m not imaginary!  Why is this so difficult for you to accept?  You’re smart enough, for a human.  But you don’t know everything.”

She’s not convinced.  If she had the energy, she’d be crying.

“You rest now,” I tell her gently, giving up.  “Go back to sleep.  Maybe you’ll have come to your senses when you wake up.”

. . .

When she wakes again, she opens her eyes with less difficulty, looking around the room briefly before laying her head back down.  It’s dark, but moonlight floods through the large uncurtained window.

She tries to stretch but manages only to briefly tense all her muscles, then gives up dispiritedly.  A slight tension remains in her stomach...fear for what she’s about to discern.

“Nephrite?” she asks aloud, in a tone that says she very much hopes I won’t answer.

“I’m still here,” I think to her, amused at her responding start of fear.  “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” she thinks grumpily.  “You don’t have someone camped out in your brain.”

“Yes I do, of course,” I argue.  “For now, it’s my brain too, and your thoughts sharing it.  We’re...joined.  Everything you are, I am too.”

“But how?” she demands, ever the pragmatist.  “Are you a ghost?”  She stiffens as she thinks this, and her heart suddenly aches.

“No. Not really.  I’m not dead,” I assure her, though sometimes I couldn’t swear to that.  “It’s...complicated.”

She makes a face at this, as if it confirms she’s inventing me.

“I’m pure energy,” I struggle to explain.  “More than a ghost – if they existed, because I have powers.”

“Ghosts have powers, so they say,” she tells me tiredly.  “I’ve never believed a word of it.  But perhaps I’d better re-examine my beliefs.”

“What sort of powers?” I pursue, as curious as she about my own state.  I have no answers.

“Well.  They say they can knock, and write on walls, and throw things.  And they can make rooms cold, and carry scents.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” I observe.

“History,” she answers with a bit of a smile.  “Social history.  People’s beliefs in magic and superstition, myths and religions.  It’s fascinating, even if you don’t believe it.”

“And you don’t?” 

“I don’t believe in anything,” she dismisses, then smiles.  “Including you.”

I ignore this provocation, steering the subject back.

“Well...again, I don’t think I’m a ghost.  I can have a body.”

“True,” she affirms, sharing my feeling of relaxed reflection.  “Ghosts can too, but you can’t touch them, as far as I know.  And you were surely solid.”

A hot flash of emotions blazes over her, and of course over me too...lust and resentment, remembering my various very ‘solid’ actions.  The pain in her backside has faded to a vague warm tingle now, barely discernable, yet she’s still mad as fury over it.  But at the same time she’s desperate for me. 

I share her sudden hunger, unsure if it’s purely hers or my own as well.  However, there’s little to be done about it now.  I say nothing at any rate, for I don’t wish to embarrass her.

“But you say you’re not dead,” she reasons, thinking back.  “So how could you even consider that you’re a ghost?”

I don’t answer her immediately, but at her question, a brief mental image comes to me – the scene of my grisly death.  Rachael gasps in horror.  I try to suppress the image, but she latches on to it, analyzing every detail, her mind a turmoil of questions.

“Who is that?” she demands, seeing Naru’s tortured face weeping over me.  Naru’s name springs to my mind like a reflex.  A strange experience begins then as Rachael starts to rifle through my memories unchecked, plainly much more skilled than I at gathering information from another’s mind.  I try to stop her, but I can’t.  She uses my automatic responses as her guide.

In no time she has reconjured the whole scene with Naru, before the youma arrived, and manages to replay all the events until the arrival of Sailor Moon.

At this, however, Rachael’s mind reaches the limit of acceptance.

“Sailor Moon?” she yells mentally.  “I’m obviously dreaming.  Or else you are.”

“Why?” I ask, feeling emotionally exhausted from the randomly relived experiences.

“Because it’s a myth.  A pretty little Japanese myth.  I read all about it myself not six months ago in an old book.”

“I wish she were.  But I’m afraid not,” I tell her, then add resignedly, seeing little point in stopping now, “Search for yourself.”

She sifts through my memories again, with greater ease now as I aid her, going right back to my first mission and Sailor Moon’s annoying interference with it.

Rachael’s mood has changed.  The more she learns, the more solemn she becomes and the questions she asks less animated and more logical.

“Who is that?” she asks repeatedly, putting names with faces.  Beryl, Jadeite, Kunzite, Zoicite...

“I’ve seen her before,” she recalls, grimacing as I identify the latter.  “She was there...smiling when you died.”

I smile myself, slightly, despite my thorough loathing.

“She is a he, believe it or not.  Though perhaps more of an it.”

“He’s horrible,” she comments, feeling my violent hatred for him, and afraid herself, remembering his cold calculating viciousness.

I’m growing weary.  Rachael asks me no more, reflecting quietly over the information she’s already gathered.  She’s strangely fixated on my various victims, feeling a sympathy and sadness for them that I never did.  I fall asleep to the strange sensation of my own memories flashing through my head at the whim of another.

= = = R = = =

“Nephrite?” I think gingerly, after a time.  There’s no response.  He hasn’t left me.  I still feel his memories lurking in my subconscious.  He must be sleeping.  How can be asleep if I’m not?  I don’t understand any of this!

At least I can relax now.  Think without being overheard.  Talk about Orwellian!  To have someone actually IN your head.  And not just anyone.  A ‘Dark Kingdom’ general...

I ate up that whole myth so voraciously.  So bizarre and fascinating, but also so plainly fantasy.  People on the moon!  Aliens and magic crystals!  It’s beautiful nonsense.

Or so I believed, until now.

How can it be true?  But how could I have imagined all this?  I’m not creative enough.  And I can’t be dreaming.  It’s too long and involved...too real.  It must, somehow, be true.

But how can I believe that?  How can I go on wondering what else might be true?  How can I separate fact from fucking fiction when everything from Atlantis to the Loch Ness Monster to the sodding Easter Bunny might be real?

Calm down, Rachael.  And be quiet, or you’ll wake Nephrite.

I take a deep calming breath.

So...let’s imagine it’s true.  He’s actually one of Beryl’s four kings.  And he’s been alive for...thousands of years?  Or reborn, as Sailor Moon was?  How??

I think you’d better forget about how for now, and get some facts straight.

Well, what’s he doing here?  I thought he died.  He certainly seems to think he did.

I told you!  No questions like that!  Besides...I don’t think even Nephrite knows the answer.  He doesn’t seem entirely convinced he’s not dead.

A qualm of sympathy runs through me as I think of his lost hopeless expression the night I met him.  My heart softens towards him, for it had hardened when I learned of what he’s done.  How he’s hurt and used people, especially poor Naru.

I think of her for a while, remembering her agony when she lost Nephrite.  Wondering about her...nearly crying in sympathy.  My thoughts are starting to drift again.  I’m so tired. My mind is filled with stars...

= = = N = = =

When I wake up again, it’s daylight.  I open Rachael’s eyes and glance around the room, at last able to sit up slightly.  She’s so hungry.  How the hell do I feed her?  She can’t even get up.  I hope she can last until she regains enough strength.

A strong rush of fear goes through me, unfamiliar and confusing.  It’s not my feeling.  Rachael is plainly awake - eavesdropping and pretending sleep.

“You’ll be alright,” I reassure her, holding back my anger at her deceit.  “I’ll leave you soon, when you’re strong enough.  Then I’ll look after you.”

She’s quiet for a while, thinking over what she learned yesterday.  I notice there’s no more doubt in her.  She believes me, though she’s still wont to shake her head, overwhelmed.

 She begins to question me, more respectfully than before.  Asking for specifics.  About the Dark Kingdom and Beryl.  About the Moon Kingdom and its destruction.  Trying to cover the bare-boned ‘myth’ she learned with more facts.  Here is Rachael the scholar, I reflect with some affection.  I aid her as best I can, teaching her my history. 

She takes it all in greedily, and still wants more...a thousand little queries, recreating life back home to the smallest detail. But then, she asks a different question - where was I born and what was my mother like? 

I don’t answer.  I can’t.  It’s...not something I let myself dwell on anymore.  But Rachael won’t be put off, demanding to know why I don’t remember and how I could have forgotten. 

“I believe that I didn’t grow up there,” I tell her grimly and somewhat unwillingly.  “There are no children in the Dark Kingdom.  I believe Beryl took me from somewhere else.  Took all her generals.” 

“Well, of course.  She took you from Earth,” she says gently.  “You and the other three.  You were Endymion’s guardians.  Don’t you know that?” 

That...can’t be true.  It can’t be... 

“Hush,” Rachael urges, frightened by the sudden depths of my fury and revulsion.  “Calm down?  Try to think.  Beryl must have brainwashed you...all four of you.  But try to remember.  Can’t you see that it’s the truth?” 

I would kill her, if I could, to shut her up.  To stop these lies.  My mind torments me like someone’s driving a spike through it.  Can’t she feel the pain as well? 

I shake her head violently, trying to stop the agony. 

“Stop it!  Shut up!  Do you understand me?  I won’t think this way!  You shut up about this now, Rachael!  And never another word...or I’ll leave you now and let you die.  Do you understand me?” 

She must, for she obeys.  Her mind is quiet, apart from sadness.  I clear my head and the horrible piercing torment eases then stops.  I lay her head back exhausted on the pillow, her brow wet. 

“I’m sorry, Nephrite,” Rachael says then, ruefully.  “So sorry.” 

“Forget it,” I order, “Talk about something else.” 

She ponders a moment, then ventures hesitatingly, “Please...would you think about the stars?” 

She sounds so wistful, I feel slightly mollified towards her, and acquiesce. 

Unhurriedly, I wander through my amassed knowledge...the planets, the stars, the galaxies...supernovae and nebulae.  Their names, their locations, their ages.  Their compositions, their sizes, their relationships to one other....and the intricate interplay of the vast forces between them.  

As I attempt to convey all this to her...the infinite depth and breadth...and my passion, my unquenchable curiosity...I gradually find myself slipping into my familiar state of trance-like reverence, feeling interconnected to all of it...and aware of that unfathomable power, there to be drawn upon. 

Rachael has ‘listened’ through it all, wide-eyed and speechless, her heart nearly bursting with respect, and even awe. 

“Nephrite...you’re a scholar,” she finally murmurs aloud, rousing me from my rapture.  “Astronomy, astrophysics, cosmology... You’re a genius.” 

Her tone of respect is so sincere it touches me, but I belittle it, uncomfortable. 

“I’ve studied.  That’s all.” 

“But how you’ve studied!” she breathes.  “You’ve worked so hard.  You ought to be revered...but you aren’t.” 

No, I reflect, sharing the memories she’s conjured of my life at court.  

Not revered.  Barely even appreciated.  Certainly not by Beryl or my rivals.  Zoicite fills my thoughts, along with an answering hatred and thirst for vengeance.  Always provoking me...ridiculing and belittling, spoiling for a fight.  The little pretty boy, trained at nothing but the art of manipulation, deception, dishonour and ruthlessness.  He taunts me, but I can do nothing, and he knows it.  Smug in his safety.  On even ground, I could destroy him, but he’s far too sly...aware of his alliances...of his importance to Beryl and of his preciousness to Kunzite. 

But now, all that is meaningless.  Beryl’s approval means nothing to me.  No more than my life.  All I want is revenge.  Now nothing would save him from me.

I realize at last that Rachael is still listening and marking all that I think.  I drag myself from visions of vengeance, and focus on her.  Her heart is still filled with that wondrous wordless respect, and even...submission.  Pleasantly astounded, I realize that she has at last achieved the mindset I desire of her.  

I would have been satisfied with merely the pretext of respect and obedience, as given by all my former subordinates.  But Rachael gives them both purely.  I find it amazingly refreshing...and delightful.

Wishing desperately for my body, I decide to make do with hers.  

I reach her hand up and stroke the softness of her cheek – so strange and wonderful to experience both touching and being touched simultaneously.  Rachael tenses slightly – the hand and cheek being hers, but not the will behind the action.  

I move to trace her mouth with a fingertip.  She stiffens further, beginning to try to wrest control of her body from me. 

“Stop it,” she says aloud. 

“Hush,” I think gently, a memory of the Japanese girl I took flashing briefly through my head.  “Close your eyes, Rachael, and be still.” 

She tries to obey and lies quietly as I run my borrowed fingers through her hair.  Yet when I run both hands languidly down her torso, feeling her soft breasts beneath her shirt, she resists again, feeling self conscious and ridiculous. 

“Stop it, Rachael,” I order again, smiling at her reaction despite my sternness.  “I told you.  Close your eyes.  Pretend it’s me.  It is me.” 

She again attempts to be still, but with difficulty.  It’s a strange experience, I’ll grant her.  For me as well.  Although they’re her hands I use, and her body I touch, I feel the pleasure also.  It’s deliciously odd. 

Rachael permits me, protesting only with a gentle moan, to disrobe her until I’m running ‘my’ hands over her soft warm flesh.  When my touching grows more intimate, her protests and embarrassment increase, but we both know – she has no wish to stop. 

“I wish you were here, Nephrite,” she murmurs hungrily.  “It’s you I want.”     

“I am here,” I think to her, moving a fingertip in a slow deliberate circle over her centre.  “I feel everything you feel.  How could we be closer?” 

Her body tenses again, but in readiness.  The sensation is so sweet...the climb up so much more exquisite than I’ve ever known it... 

“Oh god,” she mutters, writhing slightly, fighting not to take control of my actions.  “More...faster.  Please!” 

I obey gladly, and as I do, I slip two fingers inside her. 

Overwhelmed by shocked self consciousness and desperate pleasure, she comes hard...wave after wave of ecstasy falling over us both. 

Time seems to stop and we lie desperately still, clinging to the fading sensations... 

“Jesus,” I think dreamily at last, apparently having picked up the expression.  “That was like nothing I’ve experienced before.” 

Rachael giggles to herself. 

“No, I suppose you haven’t.  No man has, obviously.”  She stretches languidly, then rests her head on her arms.  “Except that Greek fellow...that seer.  What was his name?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I confess, trying to gather my pleasure-addled wits enough to follow her. 

She stares unseeingly, searching her memories. 

“Hell.” She exhales, frustrated.  “I can’t remember it.  But I remember the story.  He was walking along, and saw two snakes, having a...romantic moment.  And he hit them with his staff.  And this pissed off some god or other, and he was turned into a woman, as a punishment.  Typical Greek misogynistic story, of course.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” I demand, shaking her head in mock impatience.  She laughs and shrugs. 

“Because,” she insists, a smile in her voice, “You and he have a common experience.  He settled a bet between Hera and Zeus over who enjoyed sex more – men or women, because of course, he was the only one in a position to compare.” 

“Ah.”  Comprehension dawns at last.  “And what did he say?” 

“He said,” she answers, feeling slightly embarrassed now.  “That women get nine times more pleasure from it.” 

“That’s a bit steep...but not that far off,” I tease her. 

“Well, it’s only a myth,” she sighs, then laughs again.  “But then again, so are you.” 

“I object to constantly being referred to as mythical,” I warn her, but she just laughs harder and I can’t stay angry. 

“Go to sleep, Rachael,” I advise, settling my thoughts to do so myself.  “After a little more rest you should have enough energy to live by yourself.  And perhaps I’ll have enough to look after us.” 

“Yes, my lord,” she responds with marvellous obedience, laying her head down and shutting her eyes, a smile still on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

= = = N = = =

By the time morning comes and we’re both awake, Rachael is able to rise shakily to her feet.   She stands waveringly beside the bed, feeling relieved at her progress.

“You’re well enough,” I agree.  “I’m going to leave you now.   You’d better lie down – you’ll lose at least half your strength.” 

“Then don’t go yet,  please!” she begs.  “I want a shower so badly!  And I need to eat something!” 

“Very well,” I assent, “Come one.” 

Rachael oohs and aahs over the apartment as we leave the bedroom, looking around with wide appreciative eyes.    

“How can you afford this?” she demands, amazed and somewhat suspicious.

“I robbed a bank.”  

She believes me joking until I run the memory through our mind.  The half smile slides off her face.  

“To the shower,” I order.  “March.” 

The following experience in the bathroom proves highly amusing…to me at least.  She’s childishly embarrassed about various matters – nearly unable to use the toilet, and closing her eyes while she showers.  I don’t make things any easier by ‘helping’ her to lather her body, more thoroughly than necessary. 

When she emerges at last, clean but flustered, she moves tiredly into the kitchen, our energy starting to wane.   She rummages to find something to eat,  but there are few groceries. 

I ponder our situation while she eats crackers voraciously.  We need more energy.  It’s taking too long to regain it.  I want my powers back.  All of them.  And at the moment I’m not sure if I can even support my form.  Perhaps it would be worth risking it one more time… 

“Risking what?” Rachael, unavoidably listening, narrows her eyes. 

“Never mind,” I dismiss.  “Eat.  You’ve got to get back to bed.” 

Enough submissiveness remains in her that she obeys outwardly, but she’s still suspicious and her mind waits alertly to catch and interpret my next thought.    

I get angry and she, in turn, feels resentful. 

“Come on, Rachael,” I sigh.  “This situation isn’t easy for either of us.  Go on back to bed.  I think we’ll have one more nap before I go.” 

“I’m not very sleepy”, Rachael states, once she’s lying down again, hands folded over her chest.  She begins to use me as a book, as usual, flipping back and forth through my memories.    

She questions me about the things she’s learned, about the stars, mostly, and I correct or clarify where necessary, impressed by what she’s retained.  It seems she has amassed, in just these few days, knowledge that took me years to attain, simply by having it run through her mind.  How much will she retain after I leave her, I wonder... 

In her meandering, Rachael suddenly conjures the memory of the Japanese girl from the other night.  I realize that this memory flitted through my mind yesterday, but I’d assumed Rachael hadn’t noticed it.  Now I desperately try to clear my thoughts.  It’s no good, though.    Rachael latches on to the memory and chips relentlessly away at the scene until she has the whole story.    

She reruns it several times, feeling increasing horror and outrage...fear of me, loathing for me…then suddenly, she goes blank.  Utterly blank.  I’d think her sleeping, but I know better.    

“Rachael?” I prompt her, just to be certain. 

“Yes, my lord?” she replies with cool obedience. 

I have no response, so I don’t answer.  How calculating she can be...and what iron control.  What a warrior she would have made. 

I feel an answering but brief rush of feeling from her.  It could be pride.  Or defiance.  But it’s gone to quickly to analyze. 

I take a deep breath and resign myself to silence, each of us waiting for the other to fall asleep. 

= = = R = = = 

“Rachael?” Nephrite prompts me.  He’s finally woken up.  I have not slept, obviously.  And I'm not about to .   “How are you feeling?”               

“Fine.” 

He’s suspicious of the cool submission of my tone, but he doesn’t pursue the question further.    

“Very well.  You’re strong enough now.  I’m going to leave you.  Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” I answer, with inexplicable hesitation. 

A curious and unpleasant sensation comes over me, as though I were getting the ‘flu extremely quickly.  Energy flows rapidly from me.  I feel it being drawn out...leaving my limbs numb and my mind faint. 

A hazy mist forms gradually beside the bed, magically gathering itself by degrees into Nephrite’s form.  I stare at him entranced…by his gorgeousness, and by the strange spectacle.  At first he’s nearly transparent…insubstantial.  But by and by he grows more real, like a ghost putting on flesh. 

This process can’t have taken more than a minute, but it leaves me completely drained, staring up at his shining blue eyes helplessly. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking me over briefly. 

“Yes,” I manage to respond, though I feel tense and breathless, unsure whether the cause is my health or being under Nephrite’s gaze. 

“Alright then,” he states, satisfied, turning to the door.  “I’m going out to get some food.  You rest.” 

After a moment I hear the front door shut and a lock turn. I relax at last, releasing  my tension in a huff of breath.  

Food, indeed!  Well…I suppose that’s very vaguely true.  But damned if I’ll be a party to it.

I struggle to sit up, then rest again.  God I’m weak.  There’s no hope of running away.  But I’ve got to.   Who knows if I’ll get another chance.  He’s only leaving me now because he thinks I’m too weak to get away. 

He’s right, though.  I can barely stand. 

I test this theory by getting shakily to my feet.    

Perhaps I could get somebody to rescue me...if I could just get to a phone. 

Moving with painful slowness, I search through the apartment.  No telephone.  I begin to panic, both at the time that’s passed and at my increasingly shaky legs. 

Wasting no steps, I plod directly to the door and move out into the hall, pushing the button for the elevator, which is the only feature of this landing, save for a stairwell door.  When the elevator arrives, I stumble forward into it. 

I can’t make it out to the street, it’s obvious.  Randomly I push a button, then stagger into the hall when the elevator opens.  I move to the nearest apartment door and knock.  No answer. 

I move down the hall and try again...twice more...to no avail. 

As I slide my shoulder along the wall to the last door along this hall, I reflect hopefully that someone will probably call the police when they find me collapsed on the floor. 

I raise my hand and knock weakly.  To my relief and surprise, the door opens a crack and an elderly man peers out suspiciously. 

“Please,” I beg him, trying to seem calm but probably failing.   “I need help.  Please…can I come in?” 

He considers, looking doubtful, and I struggle to keep my eyes open.    

“Please,” I repeat, giving up and shutting my eyes, resting my head against the door sill.   “If I could just lie down…” 

With a slight grunt of annoyance, or maybe acceptance, the gentleman opens the door wider and takes me by the arm with surprising strength. 

Not bothering to open my eyes, I allow myself to be led a short distance, then collapse gratefully on what seems to be a couch… 

= = = N = = = 

“Come on, come on,” I growl to myself.  I’ve been standing here for at least a quarter of an hour and have found no prey yet.  My patience is leaving me. 

From behind the large cement pillar, I can see people passing on the street, but none so far have ventured into this parking garage where I’m lurking thug-like.  

At last…just when I’m considering a change of tack, a woman emerges suddenly from a stairwell door.  I startle slightly at the noise behind me, then smile as I watch her head for the rear of the garage.    

She hasn’t noticed me – struggling with her shopping bags, and I walk soundlessly behind her until she reaches her car.   She puts her bags down then, searching through her purse for her keys. 

I take a deliberately loud step closer to her, and she turns to me with a gasp. 

I can’t help smiling in anticipation, watching her brown eyes widen and her pulse pounding in her slender throat.   Her glance darts quickly around, but she realizes she can’t get away. 

“What do you want?” she asks shakily, restrained tears in her voice. 

“Fear,” I tell her bluntly, seeing no reason to keep the truth from her.  I reach casually into my belt and produce the impressively large butcher knife I took from the kitchen.  I hold the shining blade up appraisingly between us, letting her admire it. 

She lets out a brief experimental shriek, but I snap my hand up to cover her mouth. 

“You may not scream,” I warn her, my face inches from hers, my tone furious.  “Make another noise like that and you’re dead.” 

She whimpers instead, her whole body trembling.  I take my hand away. 

“Please,” she stammers quietly.  “Take my purse.  There’s money…” 

“I’m not after money,” I remind her, pressing my body against hers and moving my knife up to her throat. 

“Oh god…please…please,” she cries, thoroughly terrified, tears running down her cheeks. 

Satisfied at last, I reach out my left hand and draw out her delicious fear.  She swoons against me, and I drop the knife to catch her under one arm. 

The ball of energy grows to an impressive size, crackling with blue fire, dispelling the dimness of the parkade.  I want still more, but regard the helpless woman and feel a slight stirring of pity.  Why kill her?  She’s suffered enough. 

I stop the flow of energy, and ease her prone body to the floor, retrieving my knife. 

Straightening, I regard the beauty of the energy ball for a moment, feeling a strong nostalgic pang for home.  Life was hard there, no question…and frequently unpleasant.   Still, I belonged…I had a purpose.  I’m a warrior.  I need a mission. 

I come to my senses finally, aware that time is passing and my risk is increasing.  Hurriedly, I draw in the energy, nearly crying out at the glorious sensation. 

Realizing that the woman can give a good description of me, I pause a moment to clear her memories, then hurry out to purchase some food and return to Rachael. 

 = = = R  = = = 

“Here, lady.  Wake up.   Come on…” 

I’m brought groggily awake by these gruff words and a slight shaking of my shoulders.  My host is leaning over me looking slightly impatient.  He sits back when he sees my eyes squint open. 

“Here,” he says again, and I notice at last that he’s offering me a bowl of soup. 

“Thank you so much,” I tell him sincerely, bowing my head before taking it from him.    

He leaves me to it and, being alone, I abandon manners and drink it from the bowl.   It’s a lovely chicken broth, flavoured delicately with mirin and scallions, and I don’t do it justice by inhaling it so quickly.    

I finish it, and I’m just considering calling for more, despite how rude that would be, when I hear a loud knocking.  I tense immediately and forget food, setting the bowl aside and listening intently. 

I hear the door being unlocked, then instantly a violent bang which I assume is the door smashing open against the wall.  I get to my feet, relieved that I’m able to do so without much difficulty.  Moving carefully, I edge up to the side of the open door to my room, peeking out cautiously into the kitchen.    

Nephrite is standing there, just within the front door, one foot on the neck of the fallen old man, a strange blue haze floating up from him into the glowing ball in Nephrite’s hand.   I would scream in terror if I didn’t know precisely what was going on.  As it is, all I feel is fury. 

Almost without thinking I find myself stabbing a hand skyward and reaching out mentally, supplicating and summoning the stars’ energy, just as I remember Nephrite doing with my borrowed mind.  Turning the corner, I cry out in pure barbaric wrath, flinging my hands toward Nephrite, sending a bolt of energy spearing satisfyingly into his broad chest. 

Almost in the same instant, however, he hurls his ball of stolen energy furiously in my direction, and I’m unable to dodge in time.  It catches me in the shoulder and for a moment, my body buzzes as if I’d touched a live wire…then I fall to my knees…and then flat on my face. 

= = = N = = = 

I remain frozen a moment, my arm still outstretched, my pulse still pounding and my wound throbbing painfully in time with my frenzied heartbeat.    

I’m more stunned by Rachael’s action, Rachael’s ability, than by the injury. And as I ponder this, I grow less angry, and more excited. 

An attack like that…stronger than the strongest youma.  Think what she could do with training! 

I step over the old man to go to Rachael.  Examining her wound through the burned hole in her shirt, I grimace, realizing its seriousness.  Gently I gather her up in my arms, then hurry her upstairs and back to bed.  Certain that she’s not about to wake up, I go out yet again, for medical supplies. 

When I return a short time later, she is still unconscious, and I’m grateful for this as I clean then bandage her badly burned shoulder.  Afterwards I do the same for my chest wound which is a bit less serious, wincing all the while.  Nothing stings like an energy burn.

Satisfied that I’ve done all I can for her, I turn my attention to the next matter at hand.  Producing the strong nylon cord I’ve also purchased, I bind her tightly – ankles and wrists – to the four corners of the bed.   Then I pull up a chair to her bedside, and sit quietly…waiting for her to wake.


	9. Chapter 9

= = = N = = = 

Rachael announces her consciousness with a sharp hissing intake of breath, wincing as the pain strikes her.  She pulls at a restrained hand, then opens her eyes to glare at me narrowly. 

“Well,” I say quietly, watching her.  “Here we are again.  This is getting tiresome, Rachael.” 

“Why can’t you just let me go?” she demands in a groan, closing her eyes again. 

“With what you can do?  You’ll fight for me.  You’ll make a wonderful warrior…once I finally teach you some obedience.” 

“I’d never fight for you,” she growls, a tear leaking out from her tightly shut eyes.  “You’re nothing but a bloody vampire.  I won’t let you use people like this.” 

“Let me?” I echo, grimly amused and affronted by her defiance.  “You can’t stop me.  No one can.  Not once I’ve got all my powers back.” 

“Sailor Moon could.  Nephrite…maybe she could help you.” 

“Sailor Moon is a brainless child,” I dismiss, growing angrier even as Rachael's tone gentles. 

“No.  She’s a woman now.  And she defeated Beryl, as a child.” 

“We don’t know that,” I argue, my voice rising.  I get up abruptly, pacing the room. 

“No?  Then where is the Dark Kingdom?  Why can’t you get home?” she taunts me.  “You know it’s the truth.  Beryl and everything else is gone…but you’re still her puppet.  You know the difference between good and evil.  You’re just determined to ignore it.  Naru would be ashamed of you.” 

A surge of pure rage floods over me and I turn on Rachael, fists clenched, an atom away from destroying her.  She catches my expression and stares, silenced and terrified. 

“You’re remarkably heedless for a woman in your position,” I tell her, once my blood has ceased to boil.  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, refocusing myself.  “We’re getting off topic.” 

Rachael pulls at her bonds now, without much hope, her eyes showing panic and fear. 

“You left again, without permission.  This time you’ll be punished.” 

“I had to leave, Nephrite,” she protests desperately, her voice quavering.  “I can’t stand by and let you hurt people.  I can’t.” 

I raise my hands, reaching out towards her. 

“Let me show you how Beryl rewards disobedience,” I say quietly, shuddering inwardly at my own memories of what she’s about to endure.  Quickly, before this can translate into pity and weakness, I send the wave of energy over her… 

There are no screams of agony – it’s a horribly quiet business.  Rachael’s body convulses then freezes…every muscle flexed to its utmost…every nerve alive with torment. 

“You will do what I say,” I tell her quietly, knowing from experience that she can still hear me.  “Whatever I say.  And you will never mention Naru’s name again.” 

I wait a few long seconds more, until I know her lungs scream for oxygen…then I release her.  First – a desperate noisy gasp for air…and then a flood of tears, both of relief and horror.  I take a seat next to her on the bed, quietly reflecting on my own reaction to the experience.  There were tears for me too, though silent ones…and I shiver remembering my body’s reaction to the incredible agony…almost more than the mind can endure. 

I reach a hand out to slide it alongside her wet face, trying to comfort her…trying to show her she’s not utterly alone – as I was. 

“It’s alright,” I whisper.  “It’s over now.  And you’ll never know it again.  So long as you obey me.”  It’s not a threat.  It was supposed to be a comfort.  But Rachael stuns me. 

“I won’t,” she vows through clenched teeth, refusing to open her eyes, craning her head away from my gentle touch. 

I stare, dumbfounded.  I’ve never known such defiance.  It’s beyond comprehension.  

“Do you want it again?” I demand, empathy leaving me, replaced by frustration…exasperation. 

“No…please no,” she whimpers, her body trying to curl defensively despite its bonds.  

“Then say it.  Give me your word.  You will obey me.  Whatever I say.” 

“You must promise **me** …,” she begs in reply.  “You won’t hurt any more innocent people.  You’ll leave them alone.  Promise me that, and I’ll do anything you wish…anything you say…” 

“You aren’t in a position to bargain for anything!” I shout at her, furious that she should try to dictate terms to me. 

“I can’t agree, Nephrite,” she sobs.  “I can’t do it.  I can’t…” 

Beyond furious, I let her have it again, not even pausing to consider whether she can stand it…my own body trembling…my own breath held as she holds hers.  And when I release her at last, her wild inhalation fills me with relief…I haven’t killed her.   But I lean over her, taking her shoulders, shaking her slightly – trying to get her to focus on me and forget the desolation…trying to determine if her mind has survived. 

“Rachael.  Answer me, Rachael,” I urge her, increasingly panicked.  She’s hardly even crying.  Tears run down her cheeks, but she makes no sound.  She won’t open her eyes.  

“Please…say something,” I plead.  Her lips move, but I can’t make out a sound.  I lower my head to hers, my eyes narrowed with the effort of listening.  

She says it again…a barely discernable breath against my ear.  “Promise me.”  

I sit back up slowly…staring…fighting tears myself, though I couldn’t say why.  Unbearable frustration, I suppose.  

“If I do it again, you’ll die – you know that,” I say quietly, staring at her lifeless face.  “You’ll accept that, will you?  You’ll die for the human race?”  

A notion strikes me which begins to explain the inexplicable…how she can endure this agony and still have a mind, much less a will - something I have never seen in all my years in the Dark Kingdom.  It’s because she’s doing it for someone else…she’s thinking of them.  No one back home ever gave a damn for anything but themselves.   I suddenly remember Naru – standing above me, defiant.  Willing to accept death for me…and I staring…feeling similarly dumbfounded.  

And then I remember…something I had forgotten…made myself forget.  I have done the same...felt the same.  When they threatened Naru...what wouldn't I have endured to spare her?  I would have acted…did act…the same as this.  Accepted death – for her.

I reach a hand down again to stroke Rachael’s cheek, my own face now wet with a few rebel tears.  

“What did the human race ever do for you?” I ask tenderly, unsure whether she can even hear me.  I shake my head, perplexed but no longer angry.  

I undo her bonds, rubbing the reddened skin gently as I remove the ropes, then lie down beside her, gathering her into my arms, and settling her against my chest…cradling her like a child I wish to protect.  I bring my face to her hair and kiss her gently. 

“You win,” I whisper, feeling somehow only relief, then close my eyes, already nearly sleeping.  “I promise.”  

An answering whisper floats to me on the very border of consciousness…its tone peaceful…perhaps even smiling. 

“What you wish.  Whatever you wish.  You shall have it, master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is vaguely broken into two sections, and this chapter marks the end of the first.  
> Explicit liber primus, if you will. ^_~


	10. Chapter 10

= = =  R  = = = 

The days with Nephrite have gone by peaceably enough in the month since our pact was made.  Our days are full.  

We spend the mornings training rigorously, building up our strength, and in my case, learning the art of hand-to-hand combat.  I’ve come to enjoy the physical challenge, though I certainly wasn’t so hot on it at first.  My body looks better than I ever imagined it could, and I’m grateful (now) for Nephrite’s relentlessly pushing me. 

The afternoons we’ve lately spent at the university library,  reading up on the latest news in the sciences.  We were there again today and we’re heading home now, in Nephrite’s glorious car.  He drives like a maniac, as usual, and I look pointedly out the side window.  What I don't see can’t stress me. 

Nephrite is quiet.  Even more so than is typical.  I steal a glance at him and wonder what he’s thinking.  I’ve been worried about him lately.  Every day he seems more sombre and introspective…more distant.   He’s depressed, I’m certain.  And frustrated.  There’s an undercurrent of anger in him, lurking just beneath the surface, that wasn’t there before.  He tells me nothing, however.  And I don’t speak when not spoken to.  

I’ve adapted to the ‘servant’ life with more ease than I would have believed possible.  I rarely feel resentment or hostility.  Nor do I desire to escape, since Nephrite has been true to his word and has stolen no more energy.  Basically, I don’t feel much of anything anymore.  Even at night, when he takes his pleasure on me – my body responds, but my heart is almost…blank.  He’s a good master, I suppose - inspiring in me neither ardor nor rebellion…just unquestioning obedience.  

Nephrite parks the car jerkily and I gratefully climb out.  We walk in silence up the street, but when we near our building Nephrite stops abruptly, staring.   A woman is carefully reading the names by the door intercom, her back to us, her unbound black hair reaching nearly to her knees.  

Nephrite’s eyes narrow. 

“Do you know her?  Who is she?” I ask him softly, she being too far away to overhear.    

“I feel like I know her,” he answers, sounding perplexed.  “But I don’t know why.  She reminds me of…” 

The woman turns away from the board suddenly, and looks at the door, then steps back to squint up at the heights of the tall building. 

“Of whom?” I prompt Nephrite, taking my eyes from her to glance at him.  But he’s gone.  I do a double take, looking around and even behind me.  And when I turn back, the lady is staring at me.  

I stand stupidly a moment, staring back, trying to think what to do.  Genius Nephrite has teleported away with the keys.  There’s not much I can do but walk by, I suppose. 

I attempt to do this, lowering my gaze and attempting to pass her.  But she touches my arm as I come within reach, friendly but insistent. 

“Excuse me…,” she asks, “but I thought I just saw a friend of mine with you.  Didn’t I?  Wasn’t there someone with you?” 

She is incredibly lovely, whoever she is…her eyes flecked with violet.  And her hair too – flashing amethyst in the bright sun.  Something about her draws me.  Something different about her…almost that same otherworldliness that I feel from Nephrite.  She’s looking at me searchingly as she waits for me to answer.  

Considering that Nephrite didn’t want to be seen, I presume that he wants me to lie, so I do so, as convincingly as possible, shrugging slightly under her hand.  

“I must have been mistaken,” she replies, still staring…but the smile has gone, and she regards me with naked suspicion.  

I pull away and continue walking up the street, quickly.  I turn the first corner I come to, then hurry to a secluded place, teleporting myself, as soon as I’m alone.  

Back in the apartment, I go through to the patio to find Nephrite sitting quietly, a troubled expression on his face. 

“Who was that?” I ask, controlling my desire to complain about leaving me to face her.  

“I don’t know…,” he says slowly, not looking up at me.  “But I felt something…familiar somehow.  And troubling.  All things considered, I think she was probably a senshi.” 

My jaw drops slightly, and I’m suddenly overcome with regret that I didn’t stay longer and speak with her.  There’s so much I want to ask.  If only I’d known.  

Maybe she’s still down there.  Maybe I could go back. 

I step back a few steps, inclining my head in servile fashion. 

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” I tell him softly. 

No dice.  He must see through me.  He shakes his head. 

“Come over here and sit down.  I need to talk to you.” 

I obey dispiritedly, thoroughly disappointed.  Maybe later…maybe later she’ll still be there. 

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Nephrite tells me once I’m seated across from him.  “It’s too dangerous to stay.  If  the senshi are sniffing around, they’ve likely felt something from us…from what we’ve been doing…what I did.” 

“Where will we go?” I ask sadly, glancing around the beautiful patio.  I’ve never known such luxury.  I love this place.  I don’t want to leave it. 

“I have a plan.  And this seems as good a cue as any to begin it.” 

This explains his extra preoccupation lately. 

“What is it?” I ask, wondering if he’ll even tell me. 

“That article we read last week…the one about time holes?  Do you remember?” 

I nod.  Vaguely, I do remember.   One of the latest theories about space-time.  It was mostly beyond me, as is most of the physics Nephrite is into.  I struggle to keep up with him as he consumes everything he can read.  It was much easier having the knowledge ‘passed’ to me, than having to learn it for myself. 

“If there are holes in space-time, then perhaps I can control them…and we can go back,” he tells me, his eyes dark and serious. 

“Back where?” I ask, clueless. 

“Not where.  When.  To the time before I was killed.  To prevent it.  To get my revenge on Zoicite.” 

I roll my eyes in exasperation as I grasp his notion.  Now I see where his mind has been in these last weeks - always thinking of this…never able to concentrate on living or forgetting.  He’s free at last from Beryl, finally given his own chance at life – but he won’t live it! 

“Even if you could, that’s madness,” I exclaim.  “Why get into all that again?  It’s over!  Zoicite is finished now – dead and gone.  Naru has healed and has her own life.  Why can’t you forget it all?” 

“Because there is nothing for me here!” Nephrite snarls viciously.  “Everything I know is back there.  And Naru has not forgotten.  She is scarred.  And I will undo that.  I will undo it all.  And I told you never to mention her again!” 

His temper has grown such that I’m afraid, remembering the pain he can inflict.  I bow my head. 

“I’m sorry, master,” I placate.  I can’t fight him.  And obviously I can’t even reason with him.  If that’s his plan, there’s little I can do but whatever he says. 

After a few minutes, once tempers are restored, Nephrite begins again. 

“It will take more energy than you or I have, I suspect, to open these passages.  And if we’re to take on Zoicite, that will mean a fight with Kunzite too – and we’re not strong enough to beat him.  But I have a possible solution.  Jadeite.” 

I cock my head at him.  

“Beryl dealt with him, didn’t she?” 

“She didn’t kill him.  I’ve always wondered about it.  If we could find him, it might be possible to free him.  We’re going to try.” 

“What?  Right now?”  I ask, stunned. 

“No.  Not here.  Not with the senshi around.  I told you, we’ve got to get out of here.  Go pack a bag – we’re leaving for the airport in half an hour.” 

“Where are we going?” I demand, my mind whirling. 

Nephrite gives me a crooked smile. 

“Somewhere hot.” 

= = = N = = = 

I’ve always dreamed of the Caribbean…but I’d imagined girls in thong bikinis…exotic drinks in sweating glasses.  Not this.  Sand, sea, a few palms...and nothing else.  And I mean nothing.  No hotel.  Not even a shack.  Not a person for miles around.  Perfect – at least for my purposes.  And at last it’s cooling off a little now that the sun has gone down.  It’s been desperately sweltering.  Rachael has been complaining all day. 

When we arrived in Barbados, we booked a room in a lusciously luxuriant resort, and had a sumptuous meal.  At least we had that day and night to enjoy.  But the next day we rented a small boat, and promptly sought out the most isolated tiny island imaginable.  Our boat is bobbing a short way out in the surf, anchored.  I can hear the waves slapping against it, the sound carrying over the dark water.  

Rachael lies next to me, having managed to sleep despite the fierce sun.  I reach over to shake her shoulder gently now.  The stars have come out – brighter than I’ve ever seen them, from Earth anyway.  She raises her head and we both stare awhile at the incredible sky in some awe.  Finally, tearing myself away, I move around to sit cross-legged before her, then reach out to take her hands. 

“Now we’re going to find Jadeite,” I tell her determined.  “Think of him…concentrate on him…” 

She bows her head and tries, having only second-hand memories to go from.  Grasping her hands tightly, I can feel the energy she’s conducting – the heat nearly burning my palms.  I close my eyes and beg the stars myself…searching out for Jadeite.  And suddenly I know.  I can feel where he is…can feel a weak pull like iron to a distant magnet.  I open my eyes and Rachael does the same, meeting my gaze.  I give her an infinitesimal nod.  We’re going there. 

Our bodies dissolve instantly, then reform in a desperately cold place.  Rachael screams in protest at the snow into which our bare feet have sunk, and at the cruel icy wind that bites at our barely covered flesh.  

“Jesus Christ!” she shrieks at me, still clutching my hands.  “Where the hell are we?” 

“Shut up and find him!” I order through tightly clenched teeth, dropping her hands to turn and search the horizon around.  The landscape sulks in a kind of blue half light.  Drifts of snow are mounded everywhere – some carven into fantastic shapes by the relentless wind.  

“Over there.”  

Pointing to a hulking shape a short way off, I stumble towards it, and Rachael does the same, both of us shivering violently, every inch of skin in torment.  I dig at the tall pile of snow, despite the further freezing of my hands and arms.  “He’s in here!” I shout, sensing Jadeite.  “Come on.  Get your arms around him.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I stand on the opposite side of the mound from Rachael, burrowing my hands through, searching for hers.  My right hand finds hers easily, but my left comes upon something hard and smooth - ice, I realize grimly.  I worm my hand desperately along to its edge, pressing my chest against the snow, wincing.  Finally Rachael’s fingers find mine and I clasp her hand desperately, then throw everything I posses into a teleport spell – willing us ferociously back to the beach. 

When our bodies resolve there, back to the darkness and the warm gentle air, Rachael screams again, releasing the transported ice-block, and falling to her knees. My senses scream also, at the abrupt shock, my skin in agony. 

I go to Rachael and haul her up into my arms, then march toward the ocean, unimpressed with her weakness. 

“It’s only pain, Rachael,” I sigh, shaking my head.  I wade in deep and deeper, then drop her abruptly into the blood-warm water.  

I hear her rise spluttering to the surface, exhaling in an angry hiss.  But I’ve moved off too far for her to see, and I continue swimming silently, warming my still protesting flesh…casting a glance back to the dark beach and wondering about Jadeite. 

. . .   

It’s been two days.  I took Rachael back to the resort on Barbados to recover her body and temper.  We’ve rested and indulged ourselves as best we can, and on the third morning, we take our boat and head back to our island in much better spirits, anxious to see what state Jadeite is in. 

We anchor the boat and swim into shore,  then head up the beach, nearly dry again when we reach Jadeite – the sun beating down so fiercely.  The snow obscuring Jadeite’s ice prison has gone, and he is clearly visible inside.  I find it hard to look at him, and Rachael is tearful.  

“It's not melting,” she observes sadly as we run our hands over the cold, strangely dry ice. 

“It’s Beryl’s enchantment,” I sigh.  “I hoped that it would be ended with her death.  But apparently not.” 

“What can we do?” Rachael asks, a tremble in her voice . 

“We can try to break it, I suppose,” I say, not feeling very hopeful.  I’m as desperate as she to free him, however, and willing to try anything.  We embrace him again between us, clasping hands, the ice a painful shock to the skin. 

“Power of the stars…,” I say aloud, giving Rachael the words to mimic, “Free this man.  Break this enchantment.”  Rachael takes up my words, repeating them desperately, her hands radiating energy and we both pour everything we have into imploring his release.  Minutes pass - long minutes…with no result but our increasing exhaustion.  Rachael’s hands are shaking in mine, yet she presses on – so desperate to save a man she’s never even met.  A thought occurs to me.  Jadeite.  He’s conscious.  It’s part of his curse.  

“Jadeite!” I roar to him, “Hear me – it’s Nephrite.  We’re trying to free you.  Help us, man.  Use your own energy!  Help us!” 

For a moment, there is no change – then I begin to feel a strange radiating warmth from deep within the ice.  

“Nephrite?” Rachael cries to me, sounding fearful and exhausted.  

“It’s working, Rachael.  Don’t stop now.  Give it all you have,” I urge her, doing likewise – increasing my intensity until unconsciousness threatens.  Just as darkness closes upon me, there is a loud, glorious cracking sound.  Rachael’s sweat-slick hand slips from mine…and I, and she, and Jadeite fall to our knees, collapsing in a jumble of bodies and ice. 

= = =  R  = = = 

It’s early morning, and I awake to the sound of weeping - a horrible sound…soulless and somehow inhuman.  I open my eyes, cringing inside.  It’s Jadeite…lying curled in a fetal ball, gasping in breaths between his sobs.   Nephrite is still sleeping and I shake him urgently.  He opens his eyes as I did – reluctantly – loathe to face that chilling noise.  He sits up slowly, watching Jadeite, his face a picture of horror. 

“Do something,” I beg him, looking from him to Jadeite, but he shakes his head at me, rising to his feet, turning his head away. 

“Help him.  You help him,” he breathes, his voice unsteady.  “Comfort him, Rachael.” 

“You’re his friend,” I argue furiously.  “He needs you.” 

Nephrite shakes his head more vigorously. 

“I can’t.  I just can’t,” he insists desperately, looking nearly ill.  “I can’t stand to see him like that.  You do it.  You’re a woman.  Women are better for such things.  You comfort him.” 

And he heads off…abandoning me to this poor miserable stranger. 

I kneel down uncertainly next to him, my heart tense with pity.  How can you comfort someone this soul-sick?  I reach out gingerly and place a hand on his shoulder – touching him – letting him know he’s alive.  He sucks in a breath, shocked, and snaps his head up to look at me, tears still in his deep-blue eyes.  He regards my hand on his shoulder, staring so intently that I remove it, thinking it’s upsetting him.  

Before I can react, he’s thrown himself at me, pinning me to the ground beneath him.  He runs his hands over my face, over my hair, over my body…tears still dropping from his eyes.  

“Please, Jadeite-sama,” I beg him, trying to sound calm.  “You’re alright.  You’re alive.  You’re free.” 

He ignores me completely, a feral snarl on his lips, his hands growing rougher. 

I struggle against him, but he’s heavier than I am.  He grabs my head in his hands, putting his mouth on mine.  In a moment, his hands are under my shirt.  It’s obvious what he’s planning.  I fight back tears, feeling frightened and violated…but I can’t summon anger.  All I can think of is what this man has been through.  Perhaps he hasn’t any mind left.  Who would, after such a thing? 

He takes his mouth from mine to move it to my bared breasts, nearly biting at a nipple.  I no longer fight him.  I can’t stop him anyway.  And Nephrite obviously doesn’t care.  Let him have some pleasure.  After what he’s endured, it’s the least I can do for him.   

In a very few minutes, he is within me…still rough and desperate despite my lack of struggle.  I’m not ready, and it hurts, my body tensing as I wince.  He drives himself home, then clutches my body against his, so tightly I can barely breath.  After a long moment like this, he withdraws slowly, then plunges back, even harder.  I rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to relax, tears in my eyes…but then I notice - I’m not the only one crying.  Tears are running down Jadeite’s cheeks again, and as he thrusts within me once more, he lays me back down, caressing my hair gently, before laying his wet face upon my breast.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, his words muffled against me.  “I’m so sorry.” 

Frantically, I find his face with my hands, and pull him up so I can meet his eyes…hear what he’s saying. 

“You’re real,” he mumbles, trying to focus on me through tear-clouded eyes.  “I thought I was dreaming.  I’ve dreamed so much…so long…” 

“I know,” I soothe him, pressing his blonde head back down again, smoothing his hair as he cries.  “It’s alright.  It’s alright.  You’re free now.  It’s over.” 

He’s still weeping, but it’s a different sound now– more human…not that soul-chilling emptiness of before.  My heart wrenches with pity.  How can I help him? 

I continue caressing his hair and his face, then gradually his back.  He is still hard within me, and I realize he’s trembling slightly in restrained desire.  

“Please,” I whisper to him, moving my hands even lower, pressing him against me…trying to let him know it’s alright.  “Please.” 

I sound like I’m begging.  And with some shock, I realize that I am.  He raises his head to look at me, with some disbelief.  He withdraws slowly, then presses slightly forward, holding my eyes constantly, as if expecting my protests.  I have none.  I can’t stop looking at his face.  Those eyes…semi-obscured so attractively beneath spikes of blonde.  And that same aura of magic that Nephrite has.  Or perhaps it’s just the fact that he’s looking at me…something Nephrite hasn’t done in a long while.  But for whatever reason…I can’t help myself.  I press back against him as he comes to rest yet again. 

Groaning suddenly, he gathers me back into his arms, leaning on his elbows and quickening his pace.  Freed from his conscience, he lets his lust overwhelm him, plundering me with desperate hunger, making my body sing.  And when he comes, his cry a sound of inexpressible release, my own flesh clenches around his, my mind filled with rapture. 

Long minutes later, still in a haze, I feel him withdraw himself from me, and roll onto his side somewhat, still holding me tightly against him - a crucifix against the vampires of his dreams, no doubt.  I keep my eyes shut, slipping into sleep.  The thought strikes me that Nephrite might return and find us this way…but I sigh and dismiss it.  He ordered me to comfort Jadeite…and I have, the best that I could.  How glad I was to do it, he need never know.


	11. Chapter 11

 = = =  R  = = = 

When I wake up, I’m alone.  I sit up slowly, realizing how incredibly hot it is, my head aching.  Jadeite’s jacket and shirt are lying here. I scan the beach and notice him a short distance off, waist-deep in the water.  While his back is turned, I dress, feeling a flush of embarrassment.  It made sense at that moment, but now it’s hard to fathom.  I remember his tears, and his suffering…and feel better immediately.  I watch him out there…wondering what he’s thinking.  He looks happy.  As he should.  As Nephrite should look, too.  Where the hell is Nephrite anyway? 

I get to my feet and look around, shading my eyes from the fierce sun…but Neph is nowhere in sight.  The boat is still out there.  But then, he hardly needs it.  Although, after yesterday, my own energy is still fairly low.  I’m not sure if I could teleport now. 

“Good morning.” 

Jadeite has noticed me, and calls a greeting, wading toward me with a slightly shy smile.  I stare like an idiot…fixated on his bare pale chest.  

“You’re going to burn out here,” I say aloud, as if it were my consideration for him making me stare. 

“That would be a pleasant change,” he comments, grinning.  

I smile back, but scan the horizon once again, getting annoyed. 

“We ought to get out of this sun.  I can’t think where Nephrite has gone.”

 Jadeite’s face grows more serious. 

“Nephrite **is** here?  I thought I dreamed it.” 

“No.  He and I brought you here.  We got you out.” 

“Thank you,” he says quietly.  He sits down on the sand, cross-legged, quiet for a moment.  As I join him, he watches me curiously.  “Who are you anyway?  What’s your name?” 

“Rachael.  I’m…”  What am I, anyway?  It’s hard to understand, much less explain what I’ve become.  “I’m…Nephrite’s…student, I suppose.  He’s training me.” 

Jed cocks an eyebrow at me, partly in confusion, partly in innuendo.  

“For what?” 

I smirk at him, blushing.  

“To fight,” I clarify.  “And I’m not doing too badly either.” 

“To fight whom?” Jed asks, his smile gone again.  

I exhale, annoyed by the thought.  I try to explain to him Nephrite’s plan, to return to the past and change things.  This leads to a much longer explanation about how much time has passed since Jed’s imprisonment, and how Nephrite came to ‘die’, and what I know of the falling of the Dark Kingdom.  

When I’ve answered all Jadeite’s questions, we both sit quietly, reflecting.  I glance at him, something striking me for the first time.  There is no evil in him.  He would seem to be ‘cured’. 

“Jadeite-sama?” I ask, distracting him from his thoughts.  “May I ask you a question now?” 

He nods, looking at me curiously. 

“Do you remember your childhood?”  

He looks slightly pained, but nods again, before turning his glance from mine…looking out to the ocean.  

“I remember it all now.  The Earth.  The Moon Kingdom.  Endymion…my prince.   Beryl corrupted us…turned us against him.” 

“How do you remember?” I ask him desperately.  “Nephrite will not.  He can’t think of it.  There’s too much pain…” 

“I know.  But I broke through it.  I came to a point where I welcomed pain…just to assure myself that I was still alive.”  

I touch his arm in sympathy, my thoughts full.  If only Jed could talk to Nephrite about this.  Surely he could convince him, since he won’t listen to me.  

“Please…would you tell Nephrite?  I’ve tried, but he gets too angry with me.” 

“Tell me what?” 

I spin around, startled, to find Nephrite standing grinning behind us, looking like a model in his crisp white shirt…his auburn hair flaming in the sun, floating in the breeze.  

“Nephrite!” I complain, holding my pounding heart.  “You scared the hell out of me.” 

“You’d make a lousy sentry, Rachael,” he tells me generously, his eyes on Jadeite.  He extends a large hand, helping Jed to his feet.  They shake hands a moment, their eyes wide with emotion.  “How are you, Jadeite?” 

“Fine.  Thank you.”  Jed regards Nephrite so searchingly, almost devouringly, plainly intensely grateful to see him again. 

“Nephrite-sama.  Can we please get out of here?” I interrupt, my head nearly splitting.  “This sun is killing me.” 

“You’ve met my stalwart servant, I see,” he teases, inclining his head at me. 

That’s the word of course.  Much simpler.  Much more accurate.  I bite my tongue, holding back indignation. 

“Yes, alright,” Nephrite agrees. “Let’s get back to civilization, shall we?  Maybe then Rachael will be quiet long enough for us to talk.” 

= = = N = = = 

Back at the resort, we take some time alone.  Jadeite gets his own room, and Rachael is indeed quiet, apparently absorbed in thought.  I wonder how much she discussed with Jed.  There already seems a bond between them.   How she brought him back to life from that state he was in, I don’t understand…but I am intensely grateful.  I haven’t thanked her for it yet, however.  I’m not certain how I can. 

I take another long draught of the ice-cold drink in my hand, pondering.  No one spoke on the journey back here.  You’d think Jadeite would be full of questions.  Rachael must have answered them.  He seems…so different.  And yet…familiar as well, in a way I can’t express.  As if I dreamed it, but can’t remember.  He’s not the man I knew…but I feel like he’s an old friend.  

I pass a hand over my temple, noticing that my head is aching savagely.  I must have had too much sun this morning.  I call to Rachael to bring me something for it.  She does, then sits nearby watching me, intensely enough to be disturbing.  I’ve heard it said before that a woman’s silence is deafening.  I realize now what that means. 

“What is it, Rachael?” I ask her, annoyed in advance.  

“I was just wondering…what you’re planning.  If you’re still set on going back?  Or if maybe you’ve come to your senses.” 

I glare at her, at this last choice of phrase.  She knows better than that.  Is she spoiling for a beating?  

“I haven’t changed my mind.  And you’d better watch your tone.” 

“I don’t think it’s fair of you to involve Jadeite in anything you’re planning,” she insists, her tone just the same, defiant.  “He doesn’t suffer from any of these delusions that you do.  He’s happy.  Can’t you just let him live his life?” 

“None of any of this is your business,” I remind her, growling slightly, feeling nearly pushed to the limit.  “And he’ll do as he chooses.  I won’t force him.” 

“I don’t want you to ask him,” she tells me angrily.  “Because he’s bound to feel obliged to you.  And that isn’t fair.  I don’t want him involved in any of this madness.” 

“Who is he to you, that you should speak to me this way?” I demand, nearly shouting.  “You don’t even know him!” 

“I do know him.  Better than I know you, anyway,” she states sullenly.  Then her eyes narrow.  “He remembers, you know.  He remembers what you don’t.  The time before Beryl.  When you fought together…for Endymion.  He’s not a pawn to a woman who’s been dead for ten years!” 

Rage overwhelms me…blinds me.  My single desire is to stop that voice.  I raise my hands and hurl energy viciously.  Rachael deftly jumps aside, as I’ve trained her to do – the energy bolt searing into the sofa, the room rumbling with thunder.  I try again, but she manages to duck, the patio doors behind her shattering explosively.  She screams, covering her head against the flying glass. 

“Nephrite!”   

Jadeite has materialized into the ravaged room, standing between myself and Rachael who still crouches, cowering.  

“Have you lost your mind?” he demands of me, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“Get out of the way,” I order him, returning my eyes to Rachael, still filled with cold fury.  She stands up tall now, losing her terror, emboldened by Jadeite’s presence.  

“You can go ahead and kill me, but it won’t change the truth.  And you know it’s true.  Why won’t you face it?  You’re just a coward, that’s all.” 

I rush at her, no longer content with a mere attack…wanting to kill her bloodily, with my own hands.  But as I reach her, grabbing her shoulders, Jadeite leaps at my back, knocking me down, and all three of us fall to the floor, wrestling amid the shards of glass.  They turn against me, Jed and Rachael, struggling madly to hold me down.  I manage to slide my grip from Rachael’s shoulders to her throat, squeezing tightly, intent on throttling her. 

“Tell him, Jadeite!  Tell him how he served Endymion, ” Rachael begs, pressing against my shoulders while Jadeite tries desperately to pull my hands away.  

“It’s true, Nephrite…listen to me.”  He stops trying to fight me…calms his voice quickly, trying to catch my eye.  “Listen.  Look at me.  Try to remember.  We were friends…comrades.  We trained together, you and I.  Fought together, since we were boys.  Try to think, please.  You know it’s true.” 

The pain is so great that without thinking I release Rachael to hold my head in both hands, screaming…bending down, curling up like an infant…every cell alive with torment.  

“It’s Beryl doing this to you.  Tormenting you, even from the grave,” I hear Jadeite urge me through the haze of agony.  “Fight her.  Fight for your memories.  She can’t keep them from you.”  

“It’s only pain, Nephrite-sama,” Rachael calls to me, tears in her voice.  “You told me so.” 

“That’s right,” Jadeite echoes, “Only pain.  See past it.  To how you were.  Courageous.  Strong.  Stronger than her evil.  Fight her.” 

Images flash through my head…myself, writhing just this way…Beryl towering above me, sneering with sadistic pleasure.  

“I love you, Nephrite,” Rachael tells me softly, close to me, her hair brushing my face, her tears falling on my cheek.  “And Naru loves you.  Remember her.  Think of her.” 

Naru-chan springs to my mind…and I see her above me, as Rachael is now, crying just the same.  I knew agony then, and thought nothing of it.  I bore it, for her.  

“Naru…,” I mumble, trying to focus on her. 

She reaches down to caress my face, to wipe away her tears and my own.  “Please, Nephrite…remember who you are.  Do it for me?” 

My heart twinges at her touch.  I’d forgotten what she conjured in me…courage and compassion…a desire to do right.  An echo of a self, long forgotten.  The pain recedes a moment as I cling to this…remembering.  

I begin to see images…faces, unknown but familiar…and faces I know well, but strange.  Kunzite, laughing with good humour.  Even Zoicite, smiling without a trace of malice.  I see Jadeite, just as he told me – a fresh-faced boy, playing at swords with me.  I see a woman with red hair and sweet eyes, bending to kiss my cheek.  I see a lifetime of study and training.  I see myself, kneeling before a dais, trembling with honour…and above me, Endymion – a face I’d forgotten, but that I’ve seen since…at that doll show.  That dark-haired young man.  My heart had known him.  And he knew me too.  My lord…Endymion.       

“How could we fail him?” I find myself weeping.  “We turned on him…fought him.  How could we do that?” 

“It was Beryl,” Jadeite’s voice floats in my mind, bitter and desolate.  “Her black magic.  Her lies.  She corrupted us.  Beguiled us.  Stole us from him, and made us forget.  And she herself...seduced...enchanted.  Blinded to all but evil…by Metallia.   You remember?” 

“I remember,” I echo, fists clenched in hatred and fury, thinking of it all…all the pain and destruction…innocent people hurt and ruined and lost.  By my own filthy hands.  Shame roars through me, so deeply, I cannot open my eyes. 

“It’s not your fault, Nephrite,” Rachael says softly, as if reading my mind.  

I look up then, lifeless, to find her watching me worriedly, kneeling in glass. 

“You’re bleeding,” I tell her hollowly. 

“So are you,” she answers, touching a spot on my arm where blood is dribbling down.  I stare at it morbidly, wishing there were more.  How can I live, knowing this?  Knowing I betrayed everything I ever held dear?   

I look over to catch Jadeite’s eye, nearly pleadingly, wondering how on earth to go on.  He doesn’t speak, but seeing him is a comfort, and a torment…a vivid memory of my life before it was stolen from me. 

“Zoi and Kunzite,”  I say aloud as they spring into my mind. 

“Dead,” Jadeite sighs, following my thoughts, mourning with me.  “Why them and not us?” 

“It isn’t fair,” I growl.  “It isn’t right.  We have to do something.  Who knows why we were spared.  But we have a second chance, and we’re going to use it to change things.” 

“How?” Jed asks. 

“We will go back.  We’ll go back, as I planned.  There’s nothing we can do here.”  I feel better as resolution grows strong in me.  “We’ll return first and undo Naru’s suffering, and then find some way to help the others.  I can’t live like this…without at least trying to help them.” 

“I’m with you,” Jed says with quiet passion. 

I glance at Rachael speculatively, remembering our argument of minutes ago.  She looks miserable but resigned.  And as my eyes meet hers she shrugs slightly, then bows her head in submission. 

“I’m with you too.”


	12. Chapter 12

= = = R = = = 

It’s been nearly a week since Nephrite made his plan, and he’s made no more mention of it.  But I’m not fool enough to think he’s forgotten or changed his mind.  He’s resting up.  We all are.  We haven’t spoken much, spending our days mostly on the beach.  I'd be in heaven, but for the sense of fate hanging over us.  

Jadeite is the only one who seems untroubled.  Enjoying himself.  He savours everything – tastes and smells...the aesthetic beauty of girls in string bikinis.  He smiles at the world, as if he’s never seen it before. 

Nephrite is just sombre, his eyes almost always closed.  He’s tormenting himself, I’m sure, over what he’s done.  The fact that he was forced seems to give him no comfort.  I can see why he feels he must go back.  It’s the only way he can live with himself.  

Jadeite too seems to want to return, for the sake of his friends.  I don’t feel that Neph has roped him into it, which relieves me.  I can’t agree with them, with this whole mad plan…getting involved in everything again.  However, I grudgingly respect them both - willing to give up a free untroubled life, something they have never known – to risk losing it again, for the chance to help their comrades.  I’m honoured to know them.  Honoured to help them. 

What choice do I have, anyway, but to follow wherever Nephrite leads me?  I have no other desire.  I want to serve him.  It’s my world now.   

I thought perhaps things would change between us, once his memories returned.  But he hasn’t seemed to notice me, or consider what he’s done.  Or perhaps he has, but it’s just one amid a thousand other regrets.  His mind is full – I understand.  And I don’t wish to add to his troubles.  He doesn’t need to apologize, or coddle me.  I’m not sorry for what has happened between us.  I’m grateful.  And I will help him however I can...whatever I am to him. 

. . . 

At length, the fateful day finally arrives…or rather, night.  Nephrite has chosen midnight to attempt this, feeling the stars more powerfully – and Jadeite and I can hardly complain.  We have no idea how to achieve what Nephrite is planning – it’s all in his hands.  All we can do is lend him our energy. 

We have returned to our empty island, it seeming somehow appropriate.  We sit now, cross-legged on the warm sand, holding hands…making a circle.  A thought occurs to me – a stab of fear…that I may never return…to this time…to my former life.  But Nephrite commands us to clear our thoughts, and I do so, bowing my head. 

Nephrite says nothing more, but I feel energy begin to run out of me rapidly, flowing through my hand into his.  I feel weaker and weaker…and dizzy.  The world around my ears seems to wobble and shift, but I keep my head down, eyes closed, my head spinning drunkenly.  I grasp the hands in mine more tightly, feeling ready to topple over.  

“Rachael,” says a soft voice.  I open my squinted eyes hesitantly to find Nephrite staring at me, his face dappled by the shadow of leaves.  I glance around, somewhat astounded, at the trees all around us, a night breeze whispering through their overhanging branches.  Nephrite and Jed have let go each other’s hands, and I realize, embarrassed, that I am still clinging desperately to theirs.  I release them reluctantly, standing up when they do. 

“What do we do now?” I ask Nephrite, but he hushes me.  He’s looking huntedly around him, his brow furrowed.  Then he moves off, slow and soundless, through the park, and Jed and I follow, all of us keeping carefully hidden behind trees.  

Suddenly Nephrite freezes, staring.  I step up close to peek from behind him.  There – a short distance off – Nephrite is sitting…his former self, that is.  Resting his back against a tree, talking with Naru.  I'm fixated on her.  She looks so bloody young.  So innocent.  And ignorant.  Blissfully unaware of fate's gathering forces.  

“Jadeite,” my Nephrite whispers now, commandingly.  “You know the plan.  We stand back, and watch for the youma.  Take your position.  And you too, Rachael.  Hide yourself.” 

Jadeite moves carefully off, and I'm supposed to be doing the same.  But I’ve just realized something…and I can barely breathe. 

“Nephrite?” 

His attention is wholly taken up with Naru…relieving the scene word for word, I’m sure.  He half turns to answer me, angry and short. 

“What?  What are you doing standing here?  I told you…” 

“I know,” I interrupt miserably. “And I will.  I just wanted…to say…goodbye.” 

“What are you talking about?” he hisses, still hardly looking at me.  “Are you telling me you’re backing out now?” 

“No,” I answer, trying hard not to cry.  “I’ve just been thinking…logically.  If you…if he,” I nod my head towards Nephrite’s other self in clarification, “never dies…if you prevent that, you’ll never come to meet me.  According to logic…I’ll disappear.” 

I have all his attention now, suddenly.  He stares at me, eyes widened in realization, and growing panic.  My tear-clouded eyes chance to fall beyond him to Jadeite, just visible through the trees, crouching in readiness.  My heart winces. 

“And poor Jed,” I murmur.  “He’ll go back to his punishment.  You’ll never free him.  All of this...will never have happened.” 

The sound of laughter floats to us on the air and we look to see Neph and Naru, dissolved in tears of mirth.  The sound of Nephrite…laughing…is a sound I’ve never heard.  Never even imagined.  I’m glad I got to hear it at least once. 

Suddenly, between us and them, three bizarre figures materialize - Zoicite’s youma.  I recognize them from Nephrite’s memories.  We watch as Jadeite raises his hands, as planned – preparing to attack.  I feel the mounting desperation from Nephrite beside me as he stares from Jed to Naru and back again, grimacing.  I raise my own hands, building energy…waiting for the command from Nephrite, but all at once, just as the youma is launching her own attack, Nephrite turns and blasts Jadeite with energy – the sound masked by Naru’s scream.  Bloody history repeats itself, the forest echoing with the youma’s attack and Naru’s frightened shrieks, while Nephrite and I hurry unnoticed to Jadeite’s inert form. 

“Is he dead?” I panic, as we kneel on either side of him.  Nephrite doesn’t answer, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set, torment evident on every feature.  Another laugh suddenly rides on the air - a horrible, sadistic, sneering laugh.  My flesh crawls.  Zoicite.     

I want desperately to run away, afraid to be so near…afraid that he might discover us. I want to hurry Nephrite, who is leaning over Jed, searching for signs of life…but I dare not make a sound.  I take one of Jadeite’s hands in mine, and to my relief I feel a pulse throbbing at his wrist.  He’s hurt, though – his torso terribly burned by the energy.  Nephrite sits back, staring down sightlessly, doing nothing – his soul elsewhere…tears in his lifeless eyes, his fists clenched.  

“Nephrite.” After waiting many tense minutes, I dare a desperate whisper at him.  “We have to go.  We have to take him somewhere.  He needs a doctor.  There’s nothing you can do here.  I’m so sorry.” 

He merely winces at my expression of sympathy, but eases a hand under Jadeite’s head, pulling him up, into his arms.  The forest at last stops ringing with battle and shouts.  It’s strangely still.  I move close to Nephrite, putting my arms around Jed as well, waiting to teleport.  But Nephrite is waiting.  Listening.  His eyes squeezed shut, his head turned…bracing himself for something.  And then it comes - Naru’s heart-rending wail - agonized…desolate…enough to tear your heart out.    It's still ringing in my ears as our bodies finally dissolve into energy. 

We reform in another place.  A large darkened living room, sparsely but expensively furnished.  We lay Jadeite down on the black leather couch, and I turn to say god only knows what to Nephrite, but he leaves abruptly, slamming the door of the room behind him.  In a few moments, the house begins to shake with the force of distant explosions…and I can hear, even over these, Nephrite’s flood of curses.  

The noise wakes poor Jadeite.  He blinks confusedly a moment, wincing in pain, before attempting to sit up despite his injury, looking around him, furious. 

I fall to my knees beside him, trying to push him back down. 

“What the hell is going on?” he demands, with understandable vehemence.  I explain to him, still pushing on his shoulders, and as he takes it in, he at last submits and lays quietly beneath my hands.  I rip the remainder of his blackened shirt apart, to stare at his ravaged chest.  The sounds of Nephrite’s fury still rumble around us.   

“Well,” Jadeite sighs deeply, his breathe catching slightly from the pain.  “That didn’t go very well, did it?”  He looks down at me, one eyebrow raised in confusion.  “What are you doing?” 

I am trying something…something I was never taught.  I have placed my hands, widespread, over Jadeite’s chest…imploring the stars…channeling their energy…into healing these terrible wounds.  

“Can you help me?” I ask Jadeite aloud, my eyes closed in concentration, feeling uncertain.  

“I…can’t,” he stammers slightly.  “I don’t know how.  We weren't trained to heal...only to hurt.” 

I redouble my efforts, deathly determined…whatever it costs me.  But darkness embraces me rapidly, stealing my consciousness, and I don’t even know if I’ve succeeded. 

= = = N = = =

I’m exhausted.  My throat is raw, my knuckles bleeding.  I fall into a chair lifelessly…hopelessly.  

“Are you finished?” 

I spin around at the sound of Jadeite’s slightly mocking voice, echoing through the huge empty cathedral room.  He’s standing against a wall, arms crossed.  

“I wish I was,” I sigh.  “Dead and finished.  What a bloody shambles.”  I lean back in the chair, covering my face with my hands.  I can’t believe I let it happen again.  I’ve failed her, again.  I can’t believe my own stupidity.  

“If I may say so,” Jed comments tentatively, breaking into my self-flagellation.  “You’re being particularly dense.” 

I’m too exhausted to be provoked, but I drop my hands to glare at him. 

To my amazement, he smiles at me.  

“What are you doing here,” he asks, coming closer.  “Tearing the bloody house apart?  She’s free _now_ , man.  What’s stopping you?  Why the hell don’t you go to her?” 

I stare at him dumbly a moment, mouth open, wordless at my own idiocy, then suddenly spring at him, embracing him heartily.  Laughing, he struggles against me, and I suddenly remember his burns and release him, glancing down at his chest.  He’s shirtless…and with some shock I notice that his chest is clear…with no sign of a wound. 

He sees me gaping. 

“How?” I ask him. 

He inclines his head towards the living room.  “Rachael,” he answers. 

I squint a moment in surprise and confusion, but let it pass for now. 

“I’m sorry, Jed.  I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“I know.  I know what happened.  Thank you.” 

He thanks me…for attacking him.  I shake my head.  My whole world is turned upside-down.  What I need is sleep.  But I can’t…not yet.  I’ve got to see Naru. 

“That’s twice you’ve saved me,” Jadeite clarifies, smiling.  “Now you’d better go, before you collapse.” 

. . . 

I materialize into Naru’s darkened bedroom…just as I did what seems a lifetime ago.  But for her…was it only last night?  Can that be possible? 

Naru is asleep in her bed, looking much as she did that night...but less peaceful…less innocent.  Tears have dried on her bloodless cheeks.  She looks desperately tired. 

I sit down carefully on the edge of her bed, reaching down to touch her shoulder gently.  

“Naru-chan,” I murmur, but to no effect.  I move her shoulder slightly, shaking her, but still I cannot rouse her.  She’s been given something…some drug, to make her sleep.

I suppress a wave of frustrated loneliness.  So long I’ve waited to see her again...to have her see me.  Why does it never work out between us? 

I sigh, chastising myself for my dismal attitude.  It doesn’t matter.  She needs the sleep.  We have time.  At last. 

I bend over her to drop a gentle kiss on her white forehead, and notice the orange rag she clutches…the scrap of cloth with which she bound my arm…the symbol of my death.  I frown at it a moment, then look over her room.  I get up and move to her desk, finding paper and pen.  When I’m finished, I bend back over her, easing the cloth out of her hands with some difficulty, and wrapping her fingers tightly around the rolled-up note.  I sit a moment longer, watching her, but my eyes are begin to close. 

I cannot resist kissing her one last time, on her pale cheek.  She is so young.  So…fresh and spirited and starry-eyed.  I had forgotten how she made me feel.  As if…the world could be a good and happy place…and that I might actually be permitted to live that way.  That I might…start again.   

“Goodnight, Naru-chan,” I whisper against her cheek.  “Only sweet dreams now.  We _will_ be together.”


	13. Chapter 13

= = = R = = = 

The next morning, if morning it is – I can’t tell – I wake up with no idea where I am, or even when.  I lie here for a long time, trying to remember how I ended up on a couch with a blanket over me.  And trying to rally the mental strength to get up.  

Jadeite’s gone.  And the house is no longer shaking.  In fact, it’s eerily quiet.  I suppose I should find Nephrite.   

I stand and stretch, still feeling weary despite my sleep.  Leaving the room, I check various doors along an empty hallway and, to my delight, discover a huge luxuriant bathroom.  

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and change my mind about finding Nephrite.  I’m a disheveled mess.  I need a shower.  At the very least.  If Nephrite needs or wants me, he’ll find me.  Time for a little upkeep. 

I spend nearly an hour soaking, scrubbing, and showering.  And when I at last leave the steaming room, I feel slightly more myself…more prepared to deal with whatever life is planning to throw at me today. 

I head down a flight of stairs and step into a huge empty room, serenely lit by beautiful stained glass windows.  Distant voices and smells float to me, and I follow them.  Turning a corner, I find a large kitchen and also Nephrite and Jadeite who are sitting at breakfast, talking.   

“Good morning, Rachael,” Jadeite says, smiling as he sees me.  Nephrite looks up and echoes him, but without the smile.  

“Good morning,” I answer, stepping over to them.  I look at the table, specifically at the stack of buttered toast, my stomach grumbling.  I stand here a moment, unsure whether I am interrupting…whether Nephrite wants me here…dying of hunger. 

“Sit down,” Jadeite invites me, pulling out a chair.  

“Yes, sit down,” Neph agrees, shortly.  “We’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

“Like Naru?” I ask him uneasily, obeying.  “Have you checked on her?” 

“I saw her last night.” 

“How was she?” 

“Insensible,” he says quietly.  “She must have taken something.” 

“I’m sorry,” I reply sadly.  Poor Nephrite.  He’d wanted so much to save her that suffering.  And now he’s had to watch her go through it all over again.  Harder for him than for her, I suspect.  “But…you have the future now.  The rest of your lives.” 

But Nephrite shakes his head at me, taking up our argument as if we’d never left it. 

“You forget, Rachael.  Or you pretend to.  We’re right in the middle of things.  In the middle of a war.” 

“Have some toast, Rachael,” Jadeite interrupts, putting a plate firmly in front of me.  He hears the sternness in Nephrite’s voice, and must see the defiance in my eye, and is trying desperately to change the subject.  I ignore him and the toast. 

“It’s not your war.  Or Naru’s.  Or Jadeite’s.  You’re the fallen.  You’re out.  Why the hell go back into it?  Take Naru away somewhere and be happy.  Jadeite can get a job…selling encyclopedias – whatever!  It doesn’t matter!  It doesn’t concern you anymore.  You have a second chance!” 

“Wasn’t it you who was so damned insistent that I remember things?  Remember who and what I was?  And now you expect me to forget it all?”  Nephrite slams his hand on the table, rattling china.  “Well I can’t!  I can’t forget what Beryl’s done to us.  And I can’t stand by and live happily ever after while Kunzite and Zoicite die for her.” 

He pauses a moment, calming himself, then continues, not looking at me, speaking more reasonably. 

“Besides.  I’ve been thinking…about what you said about time lines…about changing the past.  We already have.  Changed things, I mean.  Just by being here.  And I’m afraid that if we change too much, we might seriously alter events.  What if we change it so that Beryl isn’t defeated after all?  What if she finds out we’re here?  Steals us again?  It’s all so dangerous…” 

Beside me, Jadeite’s face tightens in fear…at the mention of returning to Beryl.  My own stomach knots and writhes. 

“I had thought of contacting Sailor Moon…trying to help her,” Nephrite continues, talking as if to himself, looking down into his coffee cup.  “But we can’t do that either, I think.  We can’t let anyone know we’re here.  Except for Naru.”  Neph looks up at us then, and shrugs helplessly, explaining.  “I have to tell her.  I left her a note last night, letting her know something of what’s happened.  I can’t let her suffer anymore.  I’ve told her she’s not to let a soul know I’m alive.  I’m going to have trust her.” 

“We all are,” Jadeite clarifies grimly.  

“We can.  It’ll be all right, Jed.  But we have other things to worry about.  We’ve got to get a plan together.  And I have one.”  Neph sits up straighter now, the commander returning, glancing at me and Jed to make sure we’re paying attention.  

“We,” he begins, indicating himself and Jadeite, “will keep tabs here on Earth…on Sailor Moon’s movements…learning what we can of events.  But it’s not enough.  Not to save the others.  We need to find out what’s going on back home.  Back in the Dark Kingdom.  And we can’t go back, obviously, or Beryl would sense us.” 

Nephrite pauses then, and looks expectantly at…me! 

“That’s why I’m sending you, Rachael.  To be our eyes and ears there.” 

. . . 

I can’t believe it…can’t believe I’m here.  I can’t stop shaking. 

Here I sit, in Nephrite’s empty cold chamber, on his huge bed, shivering in fear.  It’s been at least a quarter hour since I materialized…my borrowed ‘memories’ to guide me.  It’s still all I can do not to be physically sick at the fear within me…and at the oppressive, tangible evil pulsing all around me. 

How could he do this to me?  My god… 

Jadeite argued with him till they nearly came to blows, but Nephrite wouldn’t relent.  This is the best plan, he insisted…the best strategy.  And it is, if you look at it coldly – like a game. 

You’re a pawn, Rachael.  There it is.  A pawn to him.  Completely dispensable. 

But he made me believe differently.  He spoke to me so respectfully, I thought…said he needed me, trusted me…knew I’d help him…obey him.  He knew I could do it.  And I blushed like any recruit would – to hear such things from their general.  My honour…it would be my honour.  I actually said that. 

I actually felt it, with his eyes on me.  But little effect it gives me now, so far from him, so deep in this place.  I could be squelched like an ant, and no one could do a thing to save me. 

I look around the room, trying to catch some essence of Nephrite lingering, but there’s not much here.  A decanter and glasses on the darkly ornate bureau.  A sombre blue silk coverlet on the bed beneath me.  A penchant for sombreness – that’s him, perhaps.  Or is that more the person he became?  Do I even know him at all?  Here – risking my neck, for the sake of a man I don’t even know…about whom the only fact I know for certain is that he’s in love with someone else. 

Don’t go there, Rachael.  Not now.  And as for that, you’re not ‘risking your neck’ – you’re hiding in a bedroom.  

I suppose that’s true.  I suppose…I must…get to work. 

I stand, very hesitantly, still fighting with the terrible nausea this place gives me.  I look down over myself, flushing and uncertain.  Nephrite has decked me out all in tight-fitting black – thigh-length shorts and a half shirt, and for some reason – black fingerless gloves, and my high-heeled boots.  

Lucky me – my super-hero costume – bought in a hurry at a sporting goods store.  

I glance at myself in the bureau mirror, through my left eye – my right one obscured by my bangs.  Nephrite’s idea once again.  Perhaps he feels I’ll only see half as much to frighten me.  My bizarre cyclopean reflection stares huntedly back, trembling.  My eye falls on the decanter.  Without questioning permission, I pour myself an unsteady glass and take a hearty swig – my eyes watering...my throat burning…and at last, my trembling stilling.  One more swallow, then I set the glass down. 

Let’s go get this over with . 

… 

Kunzite’s chambers are some distance from Nephrite’s.  And my recollection of Nephrite’s memories are not strong enough to allow me to teleport there.  I move uncertainly down quiet dark corridors, desperately remembering the directions Nephrite gave me before I left.  They – Kunzite and Zoicite – are alone, in a sort of tower, set apart, thank god, from much else…particularly Beryl’s throne room.  

I see few ‘people’ on my journey, and none of them notice me.  I’m relieved, in one sense, as I arrive at the tall foreboding door at the base of the tower.  Yet quickly I stiffen in the dread of knocking…and of who or what might answer. 

I reach up to strike the door, but as I near it I feel my hand pass through an invisible barrier…an energy field.  It doesn’t hurt, but it startles me and I pull my hand back a moment, considering.  I’m about to ‘knock’ again when the door opens, and my heart comes into my mouth. 

Tall…even taller, I think, than Nephrite.  Eerie greenish platinum hair, and eyes the shade of ice…with all ice’s warmth.  I’m suddenly shaking so badly I can hardly breathe.  It’s not all my own fear…it’s also Nephrite’s, passed to me.  Nephrite feared him, despite all his own strength.  How powerful this man must be.  What am I to him? 

He is staring down at me, one silvery eyebrow raised, probably torn between anger at the affrontery I’ve shown in seeking him and curiosity over me. 

Remembering belatedly, I drop my gaze and bow my head to him, crossing my right arm over my chest. 

“Forgive me, Kunzite-sama,” I manage to beg.  “Forgive my disturbance. But…please.  I don’t know where else to turn…” 

“Who _are_ you?” he demands, looking me over, mystified.  His voice low…icy like the rest of him. 

“I’m…Nephrite’s servant.  His warrior.  He took me from Earth…and trained me.  Please, Lord Kunzite…I’ve heard nothing from him in some time now.  Can you tell me – please?  Do you have news of him?” 

Here I raise my downcast eyes to regard him pleadingly.  He smiles…very unkindly.  

“I do indeed.  He’s dead.”  His cold tone is lightened now by amusement.  “Zoicite finished him.  He died horrifically…pathetically.  Over some girl, no less.  Some _other_ girl.”  The latter is added with a raised eyebrow. 

I ignore the implication, pretending massive grief, without much difficulty.  This, Nephrite’s comrade…these - his allies!  And listen to how they mourn him.  Bloodthirsty bastards. 

I lower my tearful eyes and mumble thanks and repeat apologies, turning blindly, hopelessly back up the corridor. 

“Come back here,” Kunzite snaps, all levity gone.  “Did I give you leave to go?” 

“Your pardon, my lord,” I respond quietly, head down, stepping back over.  “I did not think it mattered.” 

Kunzite leans on his doorframe slightly, arms crossed, regarding me thoughtfully. 

“What did you say you were to Nephrite?  His _warrior_?” 

“Yes, my lord.”  Quiet absolute obedience.  The only path that might not get me killed. 

He regards me with naked doubt. 

“He taught you…what?” 

“What he knew, my lord.  The stars.  Their power.” 

Up goes the eyebrow again.  He considers a moment, scanning the depths of the chasm on either side of the short bridge I stand upon.  He points suddenly to a figure moving some distance below us. 

“Prove it,” he orders me.  “On her.” 

I stare down a moment at the barely visible creature walking along, minding her own business.  I’ve never even punched anyone…let alone killed them.  But Kunzite’s ice-silver eyes are on me, and I realize very clearly, it’s her or me.  

I raise a hand, summoning, and in a moment bring the power down upon the unfortunate youma who disappears in a noisy explosion of light.           

Kunzite looks impressed…bemused…certainly not regretful.  Who was she?  How did she get roped into this whole business?  Was she created here?  Or stolen from another life, as Nephrite was.  As this man was.  I must remember that.  This…person…is not Kunzite.  Not anymore.  But just maybe…he will be again. 

“Interesting,” he reflects, looking me over far more intently now.  So intently that I want to turn away…run away, to be more accurate. 

He breaks off his stare at last to give a brief, slightly hunted glance over his shoulder at his ‘castle’, then steps suddenly towards me, seizing me harshly by the arm. 

Before I know what’s happened, I realize that I’m back in Nephrite’s chamber.  Kunzite is here too, and he pulls up a chair unhurriedly, claiming the half-finished glass I left on the bureau.  He leans back as he sips appreciatively, then fixes a malevolent eye on me. 

“Take off your clothes,” he orders flatly…and my heart stops.  

Please god…no?  I can’t.  I won’t.  I…I never even considered this…that he might do this.  I thought he was… 

But...he is with Zoicite.  Isn’t he?  Could that be…a defence?  Maybe even…a threat? 

“Now,” Kunzite clarifies, his tone several degrees colder. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.  “I fear that I would not survive Zoicite’s…retribution.  Would you, do you think…should he find out?” 

In less than a heartbeat, I find myself flung across Nephrite’s bed, my cheek throbbing from the blow Kunzite has dealt me, the shatter of his crystal glass still ringing in my ears.  He looms threateningly over me, his large hands tightly encircling my throat.  

Unwise, Rachael.  Terribly terribly unwise. 

“You are blind to the main concern,” Kunzite mutters, teeth clenched.  “That you live or die by MY word now…and you’re exceedingly close to the latter.” 

He removes his hands after a moment, his icy calm returning to him.  He yanks my shirt up and over my head, and tosses it onto the floor, then repeats this with the rest of my clothes, till he’s running his hands aggressively over my trembling flesh.  

Pausing a moment from his tormenting touch to stand and disrobe, he taunts me. 

“What else did Nephrite train you to do?” 

“I did what he asked.  He was my master.”  I try desperately to keep my voice unemotional.  I see now that it was a mistake to show fondness for Nephrite.  Kunzite seems obsessed – less with my body than with my feelings.  

He falls back upon me then, pulling my naked chest against his harshly.  He’s handsome, to be sure…breathtakingly so.  In another life, I’d swoon…but not just now. 

He drives himself cruelly within me, and chuckles nastily as I whimper despite myself.  As if encouraged, his next thrust is harder and even deeper, and I bite my lip, wincing, turning my head away.  

“What’s the matter?” he asks with mock sympathy, lowering his mouth to my upturned ear, and emphasizing his words with a harsher thrust.  “He asked this of you, did he not?” 

I don’t answer, thinking that he doesn’t expect me to, but he seizes my face in both his hands, yanking it round to face his and demanding a reply. 

“Yes,” I gasp, thinking to myself – he did indeed.  But it was never like this.  Nephrite…I wish you could hear me… 

“I don’t know why,” Kunzite sneers. “I don’t know what he saw in you.  You’re not much of a fuck.” 

Nephrite…please.  Help me, please…  Can you hear me? 

Kunzite rises and flips me over abruptly onto my belly.  God no…he won’t… 

He will.  And I cannot hold back a shriek as he enters me, struggling beneath him, despite my resolution to obey.  He grabs my hair in one fist, pulling my head back.  

“Come on…don’t pretend innocence.  He did this too, didn’t he?” 

“No,” I breathe, eyes shut tight, tears running down my face.  In truth, he did…and because it was him, I welcomed it.  I conjure Nephrite in my mind’s eye, clinging mentally to him.  

“Pretend it’s me,” I hear him telling me gently.  I feel his warm lips against my cheek…his strong hands claiming my body.  “It’s me.  It’s only me…” 

“He did,” Kunzite corrects harshly. “And you loved it, didn’t you?  You loved _him_?” 

“Yes,” I whisper, my mind full of my master.  I cannot deny it.  It’s what Kunzite wants to hear, it’s the reason he’s shaming me so.  He could smell my love the moment we met – an ugly foreign fragrance here in this place.  And he mocks and hates me for it.  He may well kill me now that he knows, but I will die with my master’s praises on my lips. 

“You were right to fear Zoicite,” Kunzite tells me now, releasing my hair to fall onto his hands, pressing his chest against my back as he continues to slam punishingly into me.  He speaks close to my ear, his breath warm but his voice an icy growl.  “You belong to me now.  You are my slave.  And if you put even a foot wrong…if I ever have any cause to question your loyalty…then Zoicite shall learn how you feel about Nephrite.  And I’ll give you to him.  And even I shudder to think how he’ll use you.” 

Kunzite’s words are nearly a buzz to me…a blur of sound.  My mind is full of Nephrite…so vividly I wonder if it’s purely my imagination or if he is somehow here, having heard my entreaties.  Whatever the cause, the pain is receding as my passion grows.  It is no longer Kunzite within me, however sadistically he thrusts…it is my lord, and I moan despite myself. 

“Oh so?” I can hear Kunzite’s surprised smile in his tone.  He moves his hands around beneath me to squeeze my breasts, almost gently, in a nearly sensual fashion.  His rhythm at once changes, from halting and rough, to something smoother and entirely more pleasant.  I moan again and toss my head.  

“That’s it,” Kunzite encourages me approvingly, his breath short, his scathing tone vanished. 

In my mind, or in reality - I know not which - a warm hand slides down between my legs and ecstasy seizes me.  I cry out in bliss and relief just as Kunzite comes himself, and I cannot tell when my consciousness ceases.  I am only aware, when it returns, that I am in Kunzite’s arms still, and that he seems reasonably pleased. 

“You’ve shown proper respect, at least,” he tells me in his soft low voice, a hint of a smile in his tone.  “Perhaps you’ll make an acceptable slave after all.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” I respond in monotone, reflecting.  A lucky thing.  I’ve convinced him, and perhaps now I’ll live.  But I should be dead.  For in my passion, I cried out ‘Master’, purely from habit…and thank god…Kunzite thought I was speaking to him. 

= = = N = = = 

The vision fades from me, but my last feelings were quiet…calm.  No longer tormented, at least. 

“Well?” Jadeite presses me, having been silent for some time, while I tried to reach Rachael’s mind. 

“She seems alright for now,” I tell him briefly, unclenching my fists surreptitiously.  No need for him to know the whole truth.  Guilt is threatening to overwhelm me, but I must remember what I told her.  This is all necessary.  “We’ve got to leave her to her business, and get on with ours.” 

Jed glowers at me somewhat, still angry over my sending Rachael.  But he sighs and shrugs. 

“Which is what?” 

“As I said, we can’t do very much without interfering.  But we can keep an eye.  I found out Sailor Moon’s real identity.” 

“So did I,” Jed says somewhat smugly. 

“Well then.  It should be easy enough.  We watch her.  And we stay hidden.  We’ll see what we can learn.”


	14. Chapter 14

= = = N = = = 

I don’t return to Naru until quite late the next morning, wanting to let her get a good rest.  I find her still asleep, but in different clothes.  Her colour is better today - not so pale.  She looks…happier. 

“Naru,” I call softly. 

Her eyes fly open wide, shining with hope and fear.  She sits up in bed, staring at me unsmiling, studying me with desperate intensity. 

“Nephrite,” she says finally, but it is a question.  “Is it…you?” 

I step slowly over to her and sit down on the edge of her bed, then take her small hand tentatively. 

“It’s me.  Don’t be afraid.” 

“Oh – Nephrite,” she gasps then, relief and belief washing over her in a wave.  She lowers her face to press her cheek against my hand.  “When I read your note…I couldn’t believe it.  I thought maybe it was a trick…by that horrible man.” 

“Zoicite.” I supply the name for the dreaded face.  “No.  It’s true.  It’s me.  I’m here.”  I stroke her silk-soft hair, comforting her.  But the mention of Zoicite reminds me of the danger of my presence…to both of us…to Earth itself.  “Naru, listen. Look at me?” 

She lifts her face to find my eyes with hers.  She’s crying again, but I think it’s relief now instead of misery.  I brush a tear away, trailing my thumb slowly along her jaw.  

“I’m sorry, Naru-chan, for what you’ve gone through.  I did my very best to prevent it…but I failed.  I’m so sorry.” 

She shakes her head, smiling.

“No.  It doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that you’re back…that you’re here with me now.” 

I return a slight smile, but my heart is still brooding with thoughts of how I’ve hurt her…how I will never do it again.

“I am here,” I repeat, reassuring her, as she has clasped my hand in both of hers, as if afraid I’ll disappear on her yet again.  “Naru-chan.  I need you to promise me something.” 

“Anything,” she agrees, gazing at me as idyllically as she ever did…still able to look at me like that, despite all she’s suffered on my account.  

“You must not let anyone know that I still live.  Not anyone.  Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” she answers, nodding.  

“Not your mother.  Not Usagi.  Not a soul.” 

“I won’t.  I promise.” 

“Sanjouin Masato…and Nephrite…are dead.  And you have to pretend it’s true.  Because if anyone finds out it’s not, they’ll be after me again…and after you.  You must keep it from everyone.  You must seem sad, Naru-chan.” 

She laughs at me, tears still in her eyes. 

“I feel like I’ll never be sad again,” she says.  “When we were talking yesterday…in the park…I was so happy, to be so close to you.  And then…when I thought I lost you…I’ve never been so sad.  I wanted…to kill myself, Nephrite.  I don’t remember coming home…coming to bed.  I just wanted to die.” 

I grip her hand in mine more tightly, as sorrow threatens to overwhelm her again. But she looks up at me, and her smile returns. 

“But now…I’m happier than I could ever have imagined.”  She giggles again and tilts her head at me.  “Maybe now we could have that chocolate parfait?” 

“I’m sorry,” I sigh, meaning it.  “But that’s impossible…for now,” I amend as her smile wavers.  “Naru…this next little while will be hard for everybody.  Dangerous.  There are some things I’ve got to explain to you.” 

She is quiet while I tell her something of what brought me back to her, and of the current situation…my plans and fears.  She looks older than I imagine her, when she’s not smiling.  That’s the maturity that suffering brings.  And I feel terrible to do all this to her…to blight her happy innocent childhood. 

“So you see,” I finish at last, having told her all I can…and all of it the truth, for once.  “Things are uncertain…for now.  I’m so sorry, Naru-chan, that things can’t be easy…that I can’t promise you I’ll be here forever.”  

And I am sorry…desperately sorry now, and torn.  Rachael’s words burn in my mind…urging me to take Naru far away, somewhere safe, and face an untroubled future.  Naru’s smile is long gone, replaced by a distressed worried look.  It’s not fair, her looking like that.  I want to make her happy…keep her happy.  To give her everything…give her myself…all of me.  But I can’t.  Because part of myself is with my friends.  And I’ll never be whole without that part. 

“Do you see that I have no choice?” I ask her, making her look at me, caressing her cheek in what is becoming a habit.  “I have to try to save them.  They’re more than friends.  They’ve been through everything I’ve been through, since the beginning, a thousand years ago.”  Naru-chan has reached up to touch my face worriedly, as I find myself suddenly overcome with emotion, trying to explain it to her.  “They’re part of me, somehow… like family…like brothers.  I’ve got to try to help them.” 

“I understand, Nephrite-sama,” Naru says softly, soberly. 

“I knew you would.”  I smile encouragingly at her, and draw closer, bringing my face nearer to hers.  She’s so young.  And yet, not so, in many ways.  I’ve seen her as a woman…such a beautiful woman.  And even now I see the promise of that…in those long legs…the curve of her waist.  She’s not so very far away.  And her eyes are the same.  Within this child is that woman, looking out at me…wanting me, as I want her.  But…there’s propriety to consider…I suppose. 

I kiss her cheek, to our mutual feeling of disappointment.  But frustrated lust is a small thing, given the big picture.  We’ll survive. 

I stand up reluctantly. 

“I’m afraid I have to go.  Here…,”  I dig into my pocket and fish out a paper, handing it to her.  “I got a cell phone.  There’s the number.  You’re the only one who has it.  If you need me, you can always reach me.  But don’t forget…” 

“You’re dead,” she finishes for me, with a sad quirk of a smile, then looks back down to her hands, toying with the paper. 

“To everyone but you.  I have something else for you.” 

She looks back up to see the small box I’m offering her.  She smiles shyly and takes it from me, opening it to find the delicate gold ring within.  She doesn’t put it on, staring at it, blinking back tears. 

Perhaps she’s overwhelmed, and who can blame her?  A simple schoolgirl crush, and look where it’s led her…in such a short time.  She’s caught now…tangled in this web of fate and history…with the rest of us.  Fate, is it?  Was she meant for me – this passionate, vivacious child…or have I at last begun to make my own path…my own life. 

She still hasn’t put the ring on, and I sit back down on the bed and take the box from her, holding her eye as I slip the band around her slender finger. 

“It’s a token, Naru,” I tell her, thinking perhaps that she’s afraid it’s more.  “A symbol.  Something of me, for you to keep.  To remind you that I…” 

My voice fails me, my throat suddenly constricted, and I’m surprised at the sudden depths of my emotion.  I fight to remain audible, fight to keep her eye. 

“I’ve never given anyone a ring…not in all these years.  There have been girls enough.  But I’ve never felt this way.  What you are to me, I can’t even explain.  You’ve drawn me out of a darkness…indescribable.  You’ve saved me, and made me whole again.  I am yours…heart and soul and flesh.  That’s what it means, Naru.  When I can’t be with you, you can look at this ring, and…remember that.”  

I’m a coward.  Why can I not say it?  I would walk through fire for her…what are three mere words?  They will not change things…won’t seal her to me for eternity…won’t mean an unbreakable promise.  It’s far too late for that.  It’s already so, within my heart…and there remains only the words to affirm it…a token, like the ring…perhaps the token Naru is waiting for.       

I screw up my courage…resign all my defences…and lay my heart naked before her. 

“I love you, Naru-chan.  And with my last breath, I will try to be worthy of you.” 

 = = = R = = = 

When Kunzite teleports us back to his tower, Zoicite is thankfully not there.  I stand where I materialized as Kunzite moves about the dimly lit room, finally taking a seat in an evilly gothic carven chair.  He notices me eventually, still standing immobile. 

“You’re dismissed,” he orders offhandedly, nodding his head towards the deeper darkness at the fringes of the room.  “But you will stay close, ready at my summons.  Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” I answer quietly.  I step slightly towards the shadows he indicated, peering nervously into the gloom.  “My lord…?  Where do I go to eat?  Or to sleep?” 

He turns to look at me, his forehead creased in annoyance and incomprehension.  

“You’re a youma now,” he tells me harshly, turning his face away.  “You will do as they do.” 

I can see that our ‘conversation’ is over and I look again into the darkness.  I step slowly away from him, and as I grow accustomed to the dimness I notice several other figures sitting motionless, watching me with ghostly white eyes.  I find an unoccupied stretch of wall and sit down against it unsurely.  The floor is freezing and hard as stone.  It is stone, I reflect, without humour.     

I can see Kunzite sitting, his back to me, in the lighter warmer room.  Perfect, I suppose, for my mission.  I can observe him easily.  But how can I stay here…for days on end…like this?  How do all these youma manage it? 

I turn to look at my nearest neighbour who, to my discomfort, is staring at me.  It’s too dark in here to discern much of her eccentric costume, but she looks female to me.    

“Hi,” I venture quietly, as a prelude…but I get no further.  The blank eyes narrow at me in what is either incomprehension or pure evil.  I shut my mouth and draw my arms around my knees, reflecting on my answer.  They manage it because they’re empty inside…like drones, I guess.  No will of their own…except perhaps the will to kill me.  I keep my eyes fixed on Kunzite, almost missing him.  Evil or not, at least he’s…human.

… 

Time goes by unnoticed.  I can’t tell if it’s minutes or hours, having nothing but the beat of my heart to go by.  Kunzite sleeps in his chair.  The youma still stare at me.  And I stare at Kunzite.  A motionless tableau.  The adrenalin rush of initial terror has worn off now, and my eyes are threatening to shut from the deadly boredom.  But I daren’t.  

Just when I feel that I’ll have to stand up to keep myself from falling asleep, a whirling cloud of pink appears near Kunzite’s chair…and Zoicite appears.  Fear pours over me with the shock of ice water.  I desperately freeze every muscle, even though I haven’t moved in hours.  Zoicite turns his fine-boned face in my direction, glancing quickly around, and as his gaze travels past mine, I can’t even breathe, certain that he will sniff me out…see the fear in me.  But he doesn’t, and I thank god for this obscuring darkness.  I feel a rush of dizzy relief as he turns his attention to Kunzite, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder. 

I calm my pounding heart to listen.  Despite their distance, their voices carry clearly to me, bouncing easily off the expanse of stone.  Zoicite mentions nijizuishou…crystals and trapped warriors.  And he’s fuming over the appearance of a new senshi – Sailor Jupiter.  Kunzite is quiet and thoughtful, balancing Zoicite’s passion.  He hasn’t risen, while Zoicite paces relentlessly around his chair.  Then suddenly, Zoicite steps up beside him and leans over to embrace his neck, stretching out one hand before him…showing off a glittering crystal.  Kunzite smiles delightedly, taking the gem and holding it up to see the light shine through it.  

“Well done, Zoi,” he approves quietly.  “Beryl will be pleased.” 

Zoicite glows at Kunzite’s praise, resting his head against Kunzite’s in what looks like tenderness.  

“Six more,” Zoicite says softly.  “They will be ours.” 

Kunzite doesn’t return the crystal to Zoicite, but rises to place it reverently in a case upon a table.  

“Six more,” he agrees, staring down at it with dark desire.  He turns suddenly to Zoicite, with a different tone. 

“Time to find the next one.” 

“Hai,” Zoicite obeys meekly.  He produces another crystal - Nephrite's crystal, I realize.  Holding it up and calling upon it.  It responds with a rush of light…a projection of an image - a man, clothed in black…in a cassock, I think.  A minister? 

Zoicite laughs - that horrible laugh that freezes my blood.  

“What a joke.”  

“Deal with him,” Kunzite orders with cold sobriety.  

“Tomorrow, my dear one,” Zoicite sighs, moving closer to Kunzite, stepping back against him, into his embrace, still regarding the image.  “It’s night there now.  Tomorrow I’ll have him.  And God help him.” 

Zoicite laughs like a maniac at his own humour, and even Kunzite joins in, turning Zoicite in his arms to look down at him.  He reaches down to toy with a curl of golden hair.  He says something, but it’s too soft for me to catch.  And suddenly they’re gone, in a blue flash of energy.  

The sudden depths of silence they leave behind startle me.  I feel suddenly, terrifyingly, how utterly alone I am – zombie-youma not withstanding.  I could weep, I feel so lost and afraid…and I fight not to.  I think of Nephrite.  Of why I’m here.  I tell myself that warriors don’t cry.  

Thinking of my mission reminds me that I ought to report.  I clear my mind of all its muddled emotion and focus on Nephrite…begging the stars to reach him.  I wait…and wait.  It seems hopeless, and I’m about to give up…when a voice floats into my brain. 

“Rachael?” 

“Yes, Nephrite…it’s me,” I think excitedly…so relieved to ‘hear’ his voice…to have some confirmation of who I am…that I’m still alive.  “I’ve learned some things I thought you should know.” 

I tell him what I’ve heard, about the new senshi and about the seven nijizuishou.  But he dismisses this – he’s learned it already from watching Sailor Moon.  I feel slightly crestfallen, but pass on to him the image of the priest…the next nijizuishou carrier.  

“Who is he?  Where do we find him?” Nephrite demands of me impatiently. 

“I…don’t know,” I falter sadly.  “I only know what I’ve told you.  How will Zoicite find him?” 

“He has the crystal to guide him.  We don’t,” Nephrite answers frustratedly. 

I ponder a moment, feeling miserable. 

“Well…perhaps the stars can tell you?” I suggest lifelessly after a moment.  I can feel Nephrite mull this over.  It’s very odd…almost like when we shared a consciousness.  I can feel his feelings as well as hear his thoughts.  For a moment, his irritation and anger fade, replaced by speculative hope. 

“Perhaps that will work,” he says more gently.  “And if you hear any more, you let me know.” 

 “Nephrite I…,” I begin, my loneliness and fear creeping back to me, at the prospect of losing him.  I catch the words though, before I speak them.  I want to beg him to let me come home…to let me leave this horrible place.  But I know…my mission isn’t over yet…and I agreed to do this.  I can’t ask him to let me out of my word.  I can’t tell him I’m afraid.  I can’t tell him I’m miserable.  I can’t say anything.  I leave the statement unfinished.  

Nephrite’s strange angry mood comes rushing back, with even greater violence.   

“Take care of yourself, Rachael,” he tells me gruffly…and then he’s gone. 

Tears spring to my eyes, even as I try to hold them back.  I can’t understand why he’s so angry with me.  Well…yes, I guess I do…he ‘heard’ me thinking, and knows how weak I am.  He must be…disappointed in me.  But…for so long now…I don’t understand it…there’s such a coldness in his voice.  He’s so distant.  I don’t know why.  It’s like…he can't stand me.  He hates me. 

I can’t help myself.  I hadn’t let myself dwell on this before, pushing it firmly out of my mind.  But now here, with nothing else to turn my mind to…and feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life, even after my mother died…I can’t help it.  I lay my head down on my knees and sob like a child.  

He came into my life…and claimed me.  Everything I had, everything I knew…it’s all gone now.  My whole life…my whole self – gone, for him.  And he doesn’t care…he doesn’t even want me…he hates me…he hates me!  And there’s nothing I can do.  Nowhere I can go.  But stay here.  Because it might help him…because I can’t help it.  Because…I love him. 


	15. Chapter 15

= = = R = = = 

Time has passed.  Day upon day.  Or rather, night everlasting.  The only thing that marks the dismal passage of time here is an occasional deep chime after which the youma melt away briefly, down a long dark passage.  After watching them do this twice, I followed hesitantly to learn their destination – a form of ‘mess hall’ where they line up to receive what must be called, for lack of another word, food.  Mess might indeed be more accurate.  But I was glad enough to get it that first day, having gone who knows how long without eating anything at all.  

My stomach is no longer a morbid concern, anyway.  But it’s been so long since I’ve truly slept, I feel I’m on the edge of madness.  Ever and always these youma stare at me, and however exhausted I am, I can only allow myself a fitful doze, with one eye half-open, terrified of what they might do to me should I let my guard down.  And I’m afraid as well that if I sleep, I might miss some development of significance in the world of Zoicite and Kunzite. 

They have been busy, certainly.  All seven nijizuishou have eventually been found - some brought back in triumph, but some cursed viciously over, apparently lost to the enemy.  Zoicite has declined progressively, spiraling from manic happiness to edgy paranoia as Beryl’s disapproval of him increases.  Kunzite, though, remains unchanged - placid and dark as still water under a new moon. 

They are here now, and I watch them intently as always, my eyes narrowed in a perpetual glare.  I feel bloody minded and cynical, angry and contemptuous.  Whether it’s my lack of sleep, or the permeating evil of the dark energy all around me, my moods now are appallingly black.  I could kill cheerfully…drink blood as wine. 

Zoicite is pacing about as usual, restlessly describing a new plan of his - a half-assed one (in my humble opinion).  He has discovered a way to use the kurozuishou to turn humans into youma.  As if this place weren’t rife with idle youma already.  But then I learn…it’s Naru he’s after.  It’s not the prospect of a new youma, but the prospect of torment – Zoicite’s favourite dish.  

Kunzite has been standing quietly, his arms folded over his chest, watching Zoicite flit around the room.  His expression is doubtful…perhaps disapproving.  As Zoicite passes, Kunzite reaches out to catch him by the shoulders and turns him rather forcefully to face him, sliding his hands down, pulling the smaller man against him. 

I watch, feeling a flush of vague, low-minded arousal.  There’s been very little of this sort of thing lately, from what I’ve seen - Zoicite far too busy…and understandably worried about his fate.  And he won’t cooperate now either, damn him.  He tilts his head away from Kunzite’s caressing hand, then pulls away entirely, complaining of tiredness and distraction…speaking to Kunzite more sharply and indeed disrespectfully than I’ve ever heard before.  Kunzite’s eyes narrow dangerously and Zoicite apologizes in a softer voice, but disappears nonetheless. 

Kunzite, left alone now, begins pacing as Zoicite did, but more slowly, with less energy than frustration, his eyes still narrowed, his hands fisted.  He makes a slow circuit of the room twice, then pauses at the edge of the pool of darkness…and glances this way. 

My heart gives a sudden painful double beat.  I was convinced that he’d forgotten me utterly.  But apparently I’m not that lucky.  He steps further into the darkness, probably not yet able to see me.  I could disappear, but no doubt the youma would rat me out.  And I couldn’t come back either, if Kunzite finds me missing.  

He can’t merely call me – he never did ask my name.  He must physically seek me out.  He steps slowly closer, a shadow now in the blackness, the other youma rising to attention as he passes…until eventually he stops before me.  Despite my desire to remain defiantly seated, I stand stiffly, wise enough to remember the results of his previous displeasure.  I bow my head to hide my insolent expression, which I can’t seem to alter. 

“My lord,” I murmur, my voice sounding unfamiliar to me – a sound unheard for many days. 

A flash surrounds us, and once again we are in Nephrite’s cold chamber…plainly our designated trysting place.  Nothing has changed here - the bed still rumpled…shattered glass on the floor...in which Kunzite shortly orders me to kneel. 

I don’t smell sadism…not like Zoicite, who I’m certain would put Le Marquis himself to shame.  Kunzite has just not noticed.  In a hurry, apparently - not even taking the luxury of the bed - sitting down on the chair and freeing his already hard sex. 

I haven’t moved since we arrived, and don’t move at his command either, seeming paralyzed…wishing myself away.  

“Come here,” he repeats, not happy with having to, a look in his eye that says he won’t ask again.  

I force myself out of my stupor, moving slowly over to him, lowering myself gingerly onto my knees, trying to distance myself from the task…to separate my mind from my body.  

I put out my tongue, trailing it along him hesitantly, wishing I could close my eyes…but Kunzite suddenly seizes my hair in one fist and my jaw in the other, and shoves himself deeply into my mouth.    My body tenses in protesting revulsion, but it makes no difference to him.  The hand on my jaw slides up to join the other, tangled firmly in my hair…pulling and pushing me roughly along him…back to the brink, then deeper still.  Faster.  Harder.  Kunzite groaning already, his head back, a feral snarl on his lips, his eyes closed…unseeing…or perhaps seeing someone else.  

Tears run down my cheeks and I choke and wretch as he goes too far and, plainly liking that sensation, plunges even further, into my throat.  I struggle now, vainly, with the desperation born of fear, and lack of oxygen.  I could bite him, but it would hardly save me.  It would be the last thing I ever did.  

The only consolation I have is that it sounds like Kunzite is nearly there.  He pulls back for a brief moment to allow me to snatch breath, then slides back relentlessly within.  Desperately I draw on him - hard, as hard as I can.  Anything.  Any fucking thing to get this over with.  He snarls even louder at this, thrusting more shallowly to take advantage, then finally, with a near shout, pulling my head savagely down to plunge his entire length inside me, his flesh pulsing in my mouth as he empties himself within me.  

He holds me down forever, apparently lounging in post-orgasmic bliss, until my struggles beneath his hands become violent enough to attract his attention.  And even then, he merely draws himself calmly from me, pushing me away with his palm on my forehead, as if bored or contemptuous of me…letting his head hang back again, eyes closed.

I close my eyes as well, hanging my head low, nearly rolling into a ball over my knees, wishing I could die…wishing he would die…my whole body trembling.  

After a brief moment or two, Kunzite stands up and tidies his clothes.  Again I am certain that he has forgotten me, but just before he disappears, he turns to look down at me sternly. 

“Back to your place,” he orders, and then is gone. 

In one second more, I am gone also – not back to Kunzite’s miserable tower, but to the serene rose-coloured light of Nephrite’s ‘cathedral’.  

I call to him, again and again, still kneeling, feeling in this room as if my cries are a kind of desperate prayer.  

Nephrite does not appear, but I hear my name softly spoken and turn to see Jadeite hurrying down the stairs, dressed in jeans, pulling a shirt over his head.  When he reaches me, he crouches down next to me, saying my name again, putting his arms around me tentatively.  I fall into his embrace, and abandon myself to woe so utterly, I hardly know what I’m saying.  I spill out everything – Kunzite’s kindly treatment of me, my constant terror of Zoicite and the youma, my hunger, my lack of sleep, my isolation and despair, and finally all my bewildered feelings about Nephrite – his coldness with me, his apparent disgust. 

Jed holds me solidly as I rant and cry.  He says nothing, just letting me empty myself.   When I’m finally finished, and I’m just clinging to his warm chest, wanting never to let go…he turns my face up to his…and kisses me.  

Nothing he could possibly have said could have helped me as this does...  His warm soft lips meet mine so tenderly at first, comforting, questioning…but as the kiss widens, deepens, demands, explores…my mind falls away, worries vanish.  

Long long moments later, when he’s stroking my brow, and I’m gazing lost into those hypnotic blue eyes…his brows knit in sadness.  

“Don’t go back,” he begs softly.  I’m floating so contentedly on this cloud of bliss, I almost say, “Back where?”  But then I remember.  And I realize the time that’s passed.  And I think again of what’s at stake.  I think of Nephrite.  

I pull away abruptly, and get to my feet, blushing, feeling slightly guilty…feeling ashamed of my weakness.  And yet…I feel better.  More human.  I remember what ‘human’ feels like.  I’m ready to return. 

“I have to,” I tell Jadeite, who gets up as I do, looking unhappy but not hurt.  “Something big has got to go down there soon, with all the nijizuishou found.” 

And then I remember, and tell Jed quickly about Zoicite’s plan for Naru.  

“You’d better go and tell Nephrite,” I say.  “I’ve got to hurry.  If Kunzite finds me gone he’ll kill me for certain.”  No…he’ll give me to Zoicite, as he promised. What will I tell him, if he corners me?  That I fell asleep? 

“Take care of yourself, Rachael.” 

Nephrite’s last words to me.  But I see in Jed’s eyes that he actually means them.    

“Thank you,” I tell him, stumblingly, trying to say something more but finding no words.  I can only repeat dumbly, “Thank you.” 

= = = N = = = 

It’s been a hard morning.  I’m so relieved to see Jadeite materialize beside me that I don’t even question his earliness – so sick of ‘girl talk’, so sick of idiocy…so sick of idiot girls.  I’m in a filthy foul mood.  

“God I’m glad to see you,” I tell him quietly, under my breath, as we move carefully away from the building I’ve been haunting.  “I’ve had enough.  It’s been a convention today – all of them together.  You know what that’s like.” 

“Something up?” Jed asks.  He seems distant.  Angry, perhaps.  Not himself, certainly. 

“They’ve remembered a little.  Only enough to confuse them.  It’s driving me nuts.  They’re looking for the princess.  How hard is it to figure out?” 

Jadeite looks at me sidelong. 

“Was it easy for you to remember?” 

“It was different for us,” I reply dismissively, not wanting to pursue it further.  I stop walking and regard Jed.  “So, what are you doing here so early?  Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Rachael came back,” he states, frowning at me.  “She says Zoicite has plans for Naru.  You’re supposed to watch her.” 

What, when, why?  A typical Rachael report.  It’s not much to go on. 

“I will.  I’ve put a protection field around Naru already…just in case.  But I’ll watch her tonight.  Anything else?  What’s the matter with you?” 

Jadeite is glaring daggers at me now, radiating fury. 

“You don’t even ask about her!” he accuses me, “You don’t give a damn.  You should have seen the state Rachael was in.  You have no idea what she’s going through – for you!”  

“I have a very good idea what she’s going through, and why, and it’s none of your business,” I tell him with finality, turning away from him, from this subject. 

“It IS my business – when I’m the one that has to see her like that,” Jed shouts, actually shoving me to get my attention back.  “You make her do this for you, and…” 

“I didn’t make her do anything,” I correct, spinning around to face him, raising my fists unconsciously. “She chose to go.  And keep your hands off me.” 

“You know damn well she’s doing it for you,” Jed presses, “You know damn well how she feels about you.  Dark kingdom be damned – it’s YOU that’s making her miserable!  How can you treat her so fucking badly?  She thinks you hate her!” 

“And I do hate her,” I snarl savagely, stepping forward to seize Jadeite by his shirt, bringing my face close to his.  “I hate the very sight of her now.  The very _thought_.  Don’t you think I know what I’m doing?  What I’ve done?  Everything I’ve done or said to her, from the very beginning, reminds me of what I was.  A traitor.  A monster!  Everything I can’t forgive myself for being, she embodies.  And I don’t know how to fix it.  I don’t know how to help her.”  I drop my hands as my passion recedes, then shake my head, bewildered. 

“And I know I shouldn’t allow her to do what she’s doing.  But I need her.  So I’m risking her life.  And that is evil I can’t even blame Beryl for.” 

Jed doesn’t speak, staring at me wide-eyed.  I turn away from him, smoothing my shirt, trying to clear my mind. 

“You could tell Rachael that,” Jed finally says quietly, the accusation gone from his tone.  “She’s completely in the dark.  She loves you.” 

“I know she does,” I answer thickly, trying to block a thousand memories from my mind.  “Don’t think I don’t know.  My greatest sin.  My greatest regret.  But I don’t know how to fix it.  I can’t break my own bloody spell."  

"Besides," I exhale, shaking my head.  "There’s no time to deal with it now.  “I’ve got to get to Naru-chan.  You’ll have to stay here, and keep an eye on the senshi.” 

Jadeite nods obediently, not saying a word, just damning me with his miserable eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

= = = N = = = 

I’m dreaming of Rachael, again.  I watch her die nightly, in a myriad of ways.  Tonight it is by Kunzite – his large hands wrapped around her throat, his naked body upon hers.  Her face is turned to me, as if I lay by her, watching. 

“Nephrite-sama,” she begs me hoarsely, her voice far away, her eyes on mine. “Nephrite-sama.” 

My body tenses as her urgency increases, imploring me, repeating my name…until at last I wake in a startled rush, a cold sweat covering me. 

“Nephrite-sama!”  Rachael’s voice again, sounding desperate – in my mind, but not merely imagined. 

“Rachael?” I wonder, and I’m filled with the rush of her relief. 

“I’ve been trying to reach you.  Big things are up here.  Zoicite has challenged Tuxedo Kamen for all the nijizuishou.” 

She fills me in quickly, including where and when, and when she’s finished I thank her sincerely, making an effort to be kind. 

“You sit tight, Rachael.  And let me know if anything else happens.” 

Hurriedly I find my cell phone and send Jed a message, telling him to meet me now, at the Starlight Tower. 

I dress hurriedly and transport myself there, to find Jed already waiting.  The tower has transformed into the nightmare-scape of the Dark Kingdom.  So much for keeping a low profile.  Beryl must be pretty damned confident to allow a show like this… 

“Endymion is already inside,” Jed tells me quickly.  “And Moon is with him.  What can we do?” 

“Zoicite is after the nijizuishou,” I answer, gnawing my lip in doubt, scanning the heights of the monstrosity.  “If he gets them all… He can’t get them all.” 

“But we can’t go in, can we?  Surely Beryl is watching?” 

“Surely she is,” I agree grimly.  “She’d sense us for certain.  But we can’t just do nothing…” 

As we stand around, fretting like hens, the senshi appear, the newly-joined Sailor Venus among them.  We disappear before they notice us, then reform behind them, in the shadows.  They stand around briefly, as we did, then I hear from the chorus, “How do we get in?” 

Jed and I exchange a look.  They can’t, of that I'm certain.  Perhaps we can help, with that aspect at least.  It takes dark energy to fight dark energy.  We raise our hands, in tandem with an angry Sailor Jupiter, and lace her thunder with our strength, unseen.  She’s cocky as her attack succeeds, and I half grin a moment, in memory of her…so long ago.  Always like that – deadly stubborn and headstrong.  

“What’s going on in there?” Jed complains frustratedly as the senshi disappear within.  “Is there no way we can find out?  Maybe Rachael can tell us?” 

“I told Rachael to stay where she is,” I tell him.  “But there’s a way we can watch.  We’ve done all we can do here anyway, I’m afraid.  Let’s go home.” 

Back in the cathedral, I call upon the stars to show us, and Jed and I breathlessly follow as events unfold.  Endymion, in a fit of incredible naiveté, loses his nijizuishou to Zoicite…then nearly his life…several times.  We watch with guarded hope as Moon reveals her identity, both to Zoicite and to Endymion.  But then... Zoicite lets fly his vicious ice crystal, with deadly dishonour...straight and true...lancing into Endymion’s back.  

Jed and I both cry out…stunned with horrified disbelief.  Zoicite has killed our master? 

“He’s not dead, is he Nephrite?” Jadeite demands of me, as if I know more than he.  “He can’t be dead.  This can’t have happened.  This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go – is it?  Is this what happened before?  Or is it because of us?” 

“I told you,” I snap, distraught myself.  “I don’t know what happened before.  I don’t know.” 

We both watch lifelessly, miserable, even as the ginzuishou appears and Sailor Moon is revealed as the princess at last.  Have we failed our prince?   

She bends to him, and to our infinite relief he speaks to her, briefly, before passing out.   Moon then distractedly deals Zoicite a brilliant attack, in which I can’t even take any pleasure.  I cannot forget.  It’s Beryl we must blame, not Zoicite.  If Zoi knew what he’d just done, and to whom...he would surely kill himself. 

Time passes and memories return all around – Moon having passed out in her typically indomitable fashion.  Zoicite struggles back to his feet, clearly shaken, but determined, and I shudder in dread, knowing too well what a determined Zoicite is capable of.  But he’s interrupted by the arrival of Kunzite, who’s looking grimmer than usual.  

Zoicite leans heavily on him, perhaps weaker than I guessed, and I fear for the senshi – facing Kunzite without the ginzuishou to defend them.  But there is no battle.  Kunzite disappears with Zoicite, and, to the consternation of everyone concerned, Endymion as well.  

Jed and I barely hear the ensuing pandemonium from the senshi, staring at each other, eyes wide with horror.  Moon at last awakens and learns what’s happened, and within moments there is conflict – her and Mars.  It sickens me.  I’m distracted from my despair for a moment, longing to appear and knock their empty heads together.  

“What’s going on?” Jed mutters restlessly.  “Why doesn’t Rachael report?” 

“She will when she can,” I defend, but my mind repeats his question.  What in hell is happening there?  

= = = R = = = 

I’ve never been more frustrated.  Sitting here in the dark, watching Kunzite teleport in and out, doing who knows what - first bearing all the nijizuishou, and then watching awestruck as they vanish in a blur of colour.  I feel helplessly angry, desperate to know what’s going on.  

Five minutes ago Kunzite and Zoicite both appeared, looking riled and miserable, Zoicite especially.  And then came the head-piercing call from Beryl, demanding their presence.  And now?  I have no idea.  

I’m pacing in the darkness, unmindful of the youma.  Do I alert Nephrite?  Something is clearly up.  But what do I tell him?  I don’t know anything.  I’m about to bother him anyway, thinking perhaps he can enlighten me, when they return, Kunzite bearing a nearly lifeless Zoicite tenderly in his arms, speaking to him softly and sadly.  Mourningly.  Laying him down and smoothing his golden curls, his face a mask of pain.  

My god.  What’s happened?  He isn’t…dying?  He can’t die.  Nephrite’s whole plan is to save him.  He can’t die. 

I’m nearly vibrating in place, dying of frustration, knowing that every second counts but not knowing what in hell to do.  No time to contact Nephrite.  No time to ponder consequence.  There’s only one course that I can see, and abandoning all caution, I take it – running from the darkness to hurl myself onto Zoicite’s prone body,  throwing us both desperately into a teleport spell, and praying to god that Kunzite won’t prevent me. 

My body reforms, thankfully with Zoicite still beneath me, on the cold floor beneath the stained glass windows, and I look up into the startled faces of both Nephrite and Jadeite. 

. . . 

An hour, I’d guess, has passed since I brought Zoicite.  The three of us – Neph, Jed and I – have poured out our energy to save the dying man, but we’re growing frantic now.  It’s not working.  His energy is draining faster than it can be replaced.  He’s still breathing…but barely.  It’s clear that we three are not enough.  Nephrite sighs at last, and opens his eyes to look at me fatalistically.  

“There’s no choice.  You’ve got to go back, Rachael.  And get Kunzite.” 

He’ll kill me.  I’m certain he will – before I can even get a word in.  I want to say a long goodbye.  But time is critical…and I’m supposed to be a warrior.  I stand up and vanish without a further word. 

Kunzite doesn’t notice me materialize, sitting in his chair, his face buried in his hands.  An idea strikes me.  Perhaps it will save my skin.  I edge up to him, as quiet as quiet – approaching him from the rear…then at the very last moment, reach out a hand to touch him, willing us both desperately back to Nephrite.  But…nothing happens.  Kunzite turns his head so slowly to glare at me that I realize he’s been aware of me the entire time.  He grasps my forearm, then stands unhurriedly, twisting my arm behind my back. 

“I didn’t think you were stupid enough to come back here.” 

“Nephrite sent me,” I tell him, breathless with pain. 

“Communicating from beyond, is he?” he mocks, shoving me hard so that I fall at his feet.  “You can speak face to face soon enough.” 

Before I can do anything my body is enveloped in an all too familiar agony, robbing me of speech and even breath.  I curl like a shrimp. 

Just as I’m certain my heart will explode or my mind will crack, the pain is gone.  

“Please,” I cry with the first breath I’m able to draw, trying to beg despite my sobbing.  “Please.  This isn’t necessary.  I’ll tell you the truth.  I’m telling the truth.” 

“Where is Zoicite?” Kunzite demands coldly, glaring down at me. 

“With Nephrite.  And I don’t mean dead,” I amend, holding an imploring hand towards him to stay his temper.  “They’re alive.  And Jadeite too.  But Zoicite not for long.  He’s fading fast.  They sent me to bring you.  To help save him.” 

Blinding pain again, suddenly.  Maddening, mind-destroying torment.   Kunzite’s voice floats through my brain, explaining unnecessarily. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

When I’m lying spent again, released, I am ready for death.  Hopeful even.  Please kill me.  Please. 

“Where is Zoicite?” Kunzite repeats, nudging his foot in my ribs to get my attention. 

“I told you,” I reply, not opening my eyes.  “He’s probably dead by now, with all the time you’re wasting.  I hope he is.  I don’t care.  It’s only Nephrite who wants to save him.  And save you.  God knows why.  If you’re too afraid to risk going then forget it.  Kill me or let me go.  Please.” 

He doesn’t speak and I drift away peacefully, only to wake abruptly a moment later as I’m hauled to my feet. 

“Take me there then,” he growls, his fingers digging into my arm.  “Now.” 

I barely have the energy, will, or desire, but I manage to obey.  The world winks out then reforms abruptly.  Nephrite and Jadeite still lean over the prone Zoicite, looking distraught.  Neph looks up at our appearance, frantic, and wastes no words in explanation. 

“Quickly, both of you.  He’s nearly gone.” 

I stumble over and lay my hands upon Zoicite, summoning my energy, and… 

. . . 

…and I come to my senses lying on the floor.  I blink a moment stupidly, looking up at the three men sitting above me, their eyes closed, their palms resting on Zoicite’s chest.  I gaze a moment, appreciatively.  They look like Pre-Raphaelite angels, their faces flawless marble in the glow of coloured light spilling in through the windows.  It’s day.  The last thing I knew, it was dark.  I sit up awkwardly, embarrassed, and find Nephrite watching me.  

“Sorry,” I say, by way of explanation.        

He gives me a small smile of understanding.

“It’s alright.  You were exhausted.” 

“You must be too,” I sympathize, moving closer to look down over the unchanged Zoicite.  “Isn’t he any better?” 

Nephrite shakes his head at me. 

“He’s stable.  We’re giving him back the energy he’s losing.  But it’s hopeless.  Like baling a boat with a hole in it.  He’s sick.  Beryl’s drawing out his energy.  We’re giving it back, taking it back from her.  And we can keep it up, as long as we can stay awake.  But that can’t be forever.  So she will win.  She’ll keep draining him until he’s dead.” 

I’m feeling dismal, staring at Zoicite’s pale lifeless face, but Jadeite surprises me. 

“Unless someone heals him.” 

I look up at him, startled. 

“You mean me?” 

He nods calmly, half his attention still fixed on Zoicite.  “You can try.” 

It’s true.  I can try at least.  I lay my hands on Zoi’s chest, closing my eyes, feeling out with my senses as I did when I healed Jadeite…willing whatever is wrong to be righted.  But this is not the same.  There’s a hole within this man…a well of hungry darkness, and every ounce of energy I throw into him is drained away into it.  It’s hopeless. 

I look up again at Nephrite and shake my head miserably. 

“It’s no good.” 

“Never mind,” Nephrite sighs again, looking unhappy but grimly determined.  “You know what we need to do now.  Who we need.  There’s no other choice.  She’s our only hope.” 

He lifts one hand from Zoicite to reach into a pocket, then tosses me his keys. 

“Go to Naru-chan,” he says, resettling his hand and closing his eyes.  “She’s her friend.  Usagi, she’s called.  Go and find her, and bring her back here.” 

Life and death.  So much at stake.  And all I can think? 

I get to drive the car! 

. . .  

After my initial adolescent reaction to the Lamborghini, I have to deal with yet another mundane matter – my clothes.  Hard enough to convince Sailor Moon to trust me without looking like a freak.  

I make a short stop at a mall and quickly find an outfit that's more normal, unfortunately having steal it by dint of teleporting from the fitting room.  No cash, no credit?  No problem! 

I eventually pull up outside Naru-chan’s house.  Familiar – the route known to me, though I’ve never actually been here.  Like déjà vu guiding me.  

I step up to the door and ring the bell, wondering what I’m to say if her mother answers.  But the door is opened by Naru herself.  

So young.  Incredibly young.  Far too young…but that’s none of my business.  I throw mental ice water over my feelings as jealousy and who knows what other evil emotions ignite within me.  

“I’m Rachael,” I say, praying that she knows me and I don’t have to explain.  

“Nephrite’s friend,” she says, nodding slightly.  Her brows draw together.  “Is he alright?” 

“He’s fine.  He couldn’t come himself.  There’s an emergency.  He needs you to take me to your friend Usagi.  He really needs her help.” 

She gets into the car with me and gives me directions.  She gnaws her lip as we drive. 

“I don’t know about this.  Usagi doesn’t trust Nephrite.  I don’t know if she’ll go for it.” 

I don’t know what to answer.  She knows her, I don’t.  All I can think is perhaps I can transport her by surprise.  But you’d think Sailor Moon could resist such a thing.  I don’t know… 

We arrive at Usagi’s house and sit for a moment, just watching and thinking.  

“Can’t you just tell her there’s a friend that needs help, and that you can’t say anymore?  Make her trust you?” I finally suggest with a shrug. 

She shrugs back, in abandon. 

“I guess so.  I’ll try.” 

I watch her as she climbs out of the car and heads unwillingly up the steps.  From this angle, I can’t see who answers the door – only Naru.  I can see her gesticulating, pleading with her hands.  And after a few minutes more she turns, and following behind her is Usagi – blonde and leggy, smilingly vacuous, very young.  It’s hard to believe that this girl can be responsible for, capable of, so much. 

Usagi’s blissful bubble breaks as she notices the car, and she asks Naru something, suspicion on her face.  Naru shakes her head, eyes pleading again, urging Usagi forward.  Naru opens the car door and the girls climb in, then fail to fit themselves into the single seat.  Naru finally offers to take Usagi on her knee, and the latter agrees with a laugh.  While Naru reaches up to pull the door closed, Icast Usagi a reassuring smile. 

“Hi,” I tell her.  “I’m Rachael.” 

“Hi,” she responds gingerly as I slip the car into gear and roar off.  

She’s quiet as we drive, and I’m certain that’s not normal for her.  We’re all tense and it’s not helping.  But I can’t think of any small talk either.  

At last we pull up to Nephrite’s and I park, relieved.  As Usagi climbs out, I watch her.  She’s looking over the cheerless building dubiously. 

“What is this place?” 

“Just a house, Usagi-chan,” Naru tries to smile but seems ill at ease with the place herself.  “My friend's house.  Please, come on.  It’s important.” 

She resists Naru’s tug on her arm for a moment, no doubt sensing something wrong.  What could it be?  Perhaps her four arch enemies right inside the door?  Dear god, don’t let her balk now. 

“Please?” Naru says again, her eyes imploring.  

And at last, Usagi begins walking slowly forward. 

= = = N = = = 

It’s so hard to stay awake, despite the dire circumstances.  I haven’t slept in so long.  And nobody speaks to allay the boredom.  Kunzite’s animosity is palpable.  He’s only here for Zoicite’s sake, that much is clear.  He’s stared at me now and again, eyes narrowed, speculatively aloof.  It must be killing him, wondering why I’m doing this.  And wondering how I'm alive...and Jadeite as well.  But he’s never spoken…very clearly our enemy.  

Still…whatever he’s plotting, he’s tied here for now.  I should use this fact to talk with him – to try to explain things.  But I’m too exhausted.  

I’m half dozing, only conscious enough to keep up my connection with Zoi, when the front door opens.  All three of us snap to our senses, turning our heads as Naru-chan walks in the door, her arm around Usagi.  The latter manages to take several steps forward before she sees us.  Her eyes, if it is possible, grow even bigger as she looks from Kunzite to me to Jed. 

She backs up frantically, then turns to run.  But Rachael has wisely closed the door and stands against it, blocking it. 

“It’s alright,” Rachael tells her softly.  “Calm down.” 

“What the hell is going on here?” Usagi squeals as Naru grabs her shoulders, trying to soothe her.  

Usagi’s arm shoots up, and she summons energy - preparing to transform.  I yell at Rachael, who’s reaching to interfere. 

“No, Rachael.  Let her be.”  

She’ll be more dangerous, of course.  But we need Sailor Moon.  And suddenly – there she is.  She stands slightly prouder, slightly calmer, clutching the ginzuishou close. 

“What is this?” she demands, looking towards us now, meeting my eye.  “I thought you were dead.  And Jadeite too.” 

Her words sound brave, but her voice quavers tellingly.  

“It’s complicated.  And it’s not important.  We need you.  Zoicite’s dying.”  I bend my head to look down at him.  Thank god he can’t hear this.  To beg Moon’s mercy.  It would kill him.  I know it’s killing Kunzite.  He can’t decide whether to glare daggers at me or at Moon.  “We need you to heal him.” 

“You must be crazy!” She shouts at me.  “Or you think I’m crazy.  Why would I do something as dumb as that?  Heal him so he can kill me?  He tried to kill Tuxedo Kamen-Sama!” 

“I know he did.  But you don’t understand.  He’s not himself.  Neither is Kunzite.  Neither were Jadeite and I.  Beryl enchanted us…long ago.  In the Silver Millennium.”  I keep my voice quiet and even, trying to lull her, to keep her from fight or flight…long enough to believe me.  “Can’t you remember?  You should.  We served your love – Prince Endymion.” 

“Filthy lies!” Kunzite hisses at me, incensed.  “Blasphemy!” 

“Ignore him,” I tell Moon, my eyes not leaving hers.  “He still belongs to Beryl.  But Jadeite and I have broken her spell.  We’re free now, and we remember what has happened.  Zoicite did not choose to be the creature he became.  He doesn’t deserve to die.  He deserves another chance.  He was good.  Heal him, and he will be again.” 

“Why should I?” she asks sullenly, as if I haven’t already given her a very good reason.  

“To save an innocent man isn’t enough?” I growl, my voice rising. I calm myself and begin again, more gently.  “Then how about to help your beloved?  He is our master.  And Beryl has taken him.  He needs help.  And you need us to help you.  Do it for Endymion.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Moon states, but she sounds at least uncertain. 

“If it weren’t true.  If we were after you, or the ginzuishou…don’t you think we’d have it by now?  Do you really think you could stop all three of us?” 

“But you need me – to help Zoicite.  Once I do, then you’ll have no reason to pretend.” 

I glare at her.  I’m getting frustrated and angry.  Lack of sleep and too much of this girl.  

“If I was the same man you knew before, the man who fought for Beryl, do you really think I’d be trying to save Zoicite?  He killed me, if you’ll recall.” 

“But you’re standing here,” she says, perhaps with less ice.  “You’re alive.  It might have been a trick.  An act.” 

“Do you think I’d do that to Naru, just for an act?  Do you think she was acting?” 

She stares a moment, meagre gears grinding. 

“No,” she finally sighs.  

“Then?”  I prod her.  “I’m telling the truth.  About everything.” 

She nods, pondering, squinting at me as if in pain. 

“I think…I do remember you…from all those years ago.  I remember you…in court.  Endymion’s guardians.  His friends.” 

“That’s right,” I tell her softly.  “And you owe it to him to heal this man.  You owe it to him.” 

She nods slowly, a determined look growing on her face, and at last raises the ginzuishou.  I feel the power building in her as she chants, a warm wave of energy rising rising…and then falling over us like a shower of stars…a power of light, an anathema to our chains of darkness. 

I find that I’ve closed my eyes…and when I open them I see Zoicite blinking…blinking from the daylight, blinking back tears. 

“My god,” he is murmuring, his breath catching in a sob.  “My god…what have I done?  Kunzite?” 

He looks about, searching for him, but Kunzite has vanished - afraid that what we said was true.  Afraid Moon might heal him too, and make him believe it.  

I glance from his empty place to Jadeite, who’s looking panicked. 

“He knows all about us.  He’ll tell Beryl.” 

“I don’t think so," I reassure him, "She’d capture Zoi again, maybe kill him again.  Or reindoctrinate him.  I think Kunzite has enough doubt now that he wouldn’t risk that.  I hope not anyway.” 

I look over and notice Sailor Moon still standing there, looking uncertain.  

I finally take my hands from Zoicite and get up, walking over to her. 

“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely.  “And if Endymion were here, he would thank you too.” 

Jadeite steps up to us, half grinning. 

“Sailor Moon,” he greets her.  “A different sort of meeting, ne?”  His smile grows and encourages one from her.  He continues then, speaking more seriously. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for what happened before.  And I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.  And to my master.  I’ll do everything I can to help you, and to save him.  I swear.” 

“I swear as well,” I say quietly, crossing my arm over my chest, bowing my head, while Jadeite does the same.    

And then…a determined voice that causes us all to look up.  An unsteady figure, standing up to make an unsteady bow, his golden head bent in submission.  

“And I swear too.”


	17. Chapter 17

= = = N = = = 

So much time has passed.  Long days slipping into longer weeks.  And still, we do nothing.  

I’m sitting on the terrace, sipping a brandy and watching the wind toy with the trees.  The sun is going down, staining the sky lemon and cherry  Both very good with gin, I reflect cynically. 

Jadeite appears, inhaling the cool earth-scented breeze with appreciation.  Gazing at the sunset.  Frowning as I refill my glass.  I pour out more than I’d intended, just to spite him.  

He sits down without speaking, leaning his chair back easily, still watching the sky.  It’s night in earnest, the stars shimmering down, when he finally speaks.  But he doesn’t condemn me, as he should. 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” he sighs.  “Doing nothing.  Waiting and seeing.” 

Hard?  It’s killing me.  Knowing that our master has been turned.  Not being able to do a damn thing to help him.  Watching Zoicite flagellate himself every waking moment – hating himself for what he’s done, suffering more than any of us over Kunzite.  And I burn with guilt over Rachael.  I have no words for her.  Not even any work for her.  I know she’s around, but I avoid her, and she must avoid me also.  A bloody bloody mess, all of it. 

I take another large gulp of brandy.  The coward’s way, I know.  

“It is,” I finally answer Jed.  “I feel…utterly fucking powerless.”  I exhale, and fury builds in me.  Fury at myself, and at this whole miserable situation. 

“Is this how we serve Endymion?” I shout.  “Doing nothing?  Waiting and waiting?  For what?  For a safe chance?  Cowardice!” 

“We’re biding our time.  There’s a difference between bravery and stupidity – you know that.  We can’t just charge in and rescue him.” 

“Excuses,” I dismiss.  “An excuse to do nothing.” 

“We’ve done what we can,” Jed insists, making me feel slightly better by pouring himself a brandy of his own.  He tips his chair back again and sips, reflecting, refusing to get angry.  “If we go in there, we’ll either be killed or reclaimed.  That doesn’t help Endymion.  It’s just not in our hands.  If anyone can help him, it’s Sailor Moon.  And we’ve done all we can for her.” 

It’s true.  There have been holes in Endymion’s ‘conversion’ – spasms of memory, inexplicable mercy, flaunting of orders – all brought on by Sailor Moon.  And once she even brought him back – healed him and returned his memory.  We might have saved him then, perhaps – but did not.  Could not.  Beryl took him back too quickly.  But still…it could be done.  If only we could get her to him somehow.  Perhaps bring the battle to Beryl?  Force her hand before she’s ready?

I look at Jed, thoughtfully, with at last, perhaps, the ghost of an idea. 

“Perhaps we can do one thing more.” 

= = = R = = = 

So  - that’s the plan, is it?  Show the senshi a secret entrance to the Dark Kingdom?  And this helps what? And how? 

Yes, I was eavesdropping.  I claim no shred of moral fibre anymore.  I’m losing my mind with this waiting.  With these people.  With having no life, no role, no purpose.  I have to do something.  I can’t stop thinking about Kunzite.  The other night, with Sailor Moon – in the great failed deception – he was as cold and merciless as ever.  Did nothing he heard here sink in to trouble him?  And does he never wonder about Zoicite?  As Zoi does about him? 

Zoicite is upstairs, probably already in bed.  Sleeping is mostly all he does now.  Besides cry.  Nephrite and Jed are still out on the patio.  No one knows I’m here, or likely cares.  Certainly they won’t miss me.  It will only be a minute… 

And then I do it, before I lose my nerve.  I do the unthinkable – and return to Kunzite. 

His chamber was always dark, but it is darker than usual.  It takes me a moment to discern Kunzite’s figure – sitting immobile, a hand over his eyes, rubbing his temples. 

“Headache?” I ask gently, and he drops his hand to glare at me. 

“What are you doing here?” he growls.  I feel like I’m ahead already.  He didn’t kill me on sight. 

“Wondering about you.  Worrying about you.  As is Zoicite.  He’s in a terrible state.” 

The hand returns to his temple and he grimaces.  

“Zoicite is dead.” 

“You know that’s a lie,” I rebut, calmly. 

“To me, he’s dead,” he says, voice rising.  “You’ve filled his head with lies.  I don’t know him anymore.” 

 “You do know him – your heart knows him.  Your heart knows the truth.  This whole life you have here is the lie!”  Kunzite is now holding his head with both hands, as if afraid that it will explode.  I decide to push him, trying to turn him…not much caring what happens to me as a result.   “What is it that keeps you here?  The cold?  The loneliness?  The misery?  Serving a woman who as good as killed all your comrades – and who will kill you at her earliest convenience, on her slightest whim?” 

“No!” Kunzite shouts, dropping his hands and advancing on me.  “I live for the glory of the Dark Kingdom.   To serve Beryl, and Metallia.  To see goodness defeated and darkness reign.”  

He has come up to a stop before me, since I have not backed away.  His fists are clenched, his jaw tight, and suddenly his eyes close and his voice drops to a quiet snarl.  

“Even if my loyalty means nothing to them…even if I have been outed by a know-nothing pretty boy.  Even if she killed my…love.” He spits out the last word, as if it’s a curse, and he looks at me with narrowed eyes.  “It’s the only world I know.  My duty is all I have left.  Now get out of here and don’t come back.” 

My eyes are filled with tears…of pity, of frustration.  He’s so alone.  I want to hold him…to comfort him, despite everything he’s ever done to me.  But he turns his back on me, striding off into the darkness.  There’s nothing I can do.  I dry my eyes, and go home. 

. . . 

I find ‘home’ much busier than I left it.  All three generals are here, in the main room, and I’m not too surprised to learn that the senshi have suddenly discovered a mysterious tunnel leading to the Dark Kingdom.  I am shocked at their alacrity, however.  Gathered and functioning so shortly after receiving Nephrite's news.  They must be nearly as desperate as we are for action.    

No one asks about my disappearance, and I fall in quietly with the others, watching the vision Nephrite has summoned of the senshi’s progress down the corridor.  When they run into Kunzite, my stomach turns over.  Some mood I’ve left him in.  He’s out for blood now – no small voice of conscience has a hope of making itself heard.  

Kunzite attacks…but chaos ensues.  For a moment, Nephrite’s mantra about the stars knowing everything is proved wrong – the stars are obviously confused.  We’ve lost the senshi…but we finally get a fix on Kunzite.  He has come upon the guardian cats at the end of the tunnel – in a world of ice and snow.  Familiar.  Snow might all look the same, but I think it’s suspicious coincidence.  I have been there before. 

Kunzite is feeling sufficiently bloody-minded to attack defenceless cats, and I’m very relieved when the senshi suddenly reappear from wherever they’d gone and put a stop to it.  But it’s an ugly battle.  Kunzite is so angry, and so powerful.  I’m afraid this might be the end of Moon and company, right here and now.  

But there’s something in Sailor Moon’s eyes I haven’t seen before.  A look of determination.  She isn’t cowed.  She raises her wand and to our delighted relief, sends a wave of healing energy over Kunzite…bathing him in sparkling light.  We all wait a moment, breathless with hope.  

But Kunzite only snarls, producing more energy knives…hurling defiance, along with his energy, in what looks for all the world like a deathblow.  But miraculously, Moon reflects it back at him – and he is hit.  He falls to his knees, calling out to Zoicite, telling him he’s coming to join him.  An unstoppable rush of joy floods over me.  I think I’m the only one who isn’t surprised at all to see Kunzite suddenly materialize at our feet. 

We rush to lay our hands on him, all concern.  But Kunzite is smiling, albeit weakly.  He plucks the energy knife from his cloak, and absorbs it back into his body.  

“I’m alright,” he admonishes us, finding Zoicite’s brimming eyes with his.  Taking his hand, tightly.      

I close my eyes, sensing out…he is very wounded.  But it is a wound of the flesh.  I think I can heal him, if I have the energy.  I look up to Nephrite and tell him so.  In a moment, he, and Jadeite, and Zoicite lay their hands upon me, and I’m filled suddenly with a miraculous strength – a rush of so much joy and love and hope…I could heal the world. 

. . . 

I wake up feeling rested from a long much-needed sleep.  The senshi decided to put off any further action for a day or two, and we were all very grateful.  But I can’t sleep any more.  Thoughts and worries are already beginning to nag at me.  Will it be today?  What will happen?  And afterwards?  What becomes of me?  

Like Pygmalion.  Nephrite molds me, changes me…all to suit him…then casts me aside. What has he left me fit for?  I can’t even remember my other life now.  

I stifle tears, yet again.  No point in thinking that way now.  Good chance we won’t even be alive tomorrow to worry about it.  

I dress and go out into the quiet house.  Everybody still asleep, it seems.  Good.  

I head down, through the empty ‘sanctuary’, into the kitchen, putting on some coffee. 

Five people here now.  They need to eat.  I’ll have to go out and get more groceries.  Maybe a nice dinner would be a good thing.  Just typical – I finally have some people to cook for, and I’m not in the mood for it.  Nothing fancy.  Nobody’s in a party mood.  Pasta, maybe.  And wine.  A salad.  Calamari linguine? A garlic cream sauce? 

I’m so abstracted with thoughts of food that I jump, startled, as a voice behind me says, “Good morning.” 

I turn to see Kunzite, standing in the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame in that relaxed easy way of his.  

I echo his greeting, nervously, looking only briefly at him, keeping my eyes down.  So tense.  Scared, almost.  Feeling the large kitchen is now too small…feeling trapped.  Not really knowing why. 

“Your name’s Rachael, ne?”   

“Yes,” I smile quickly at him, and then look away again, collecting dirty dishes from yesterday, getting ready to wash them. 

Kunzite moves into the kitchen, looking around, then gestures to the French doors.           

“What’s out there?” 

I look where he’s pointing. 

“A garden.  A bit of a park,” I answer. 

He steps over to me and puts an arm firmly behind me, pulling me inexorably with him. 

“Let’s take a walk then,” he says.  

“I was just going to…,” I attempt to argue, but there is no arguing.  We’re already through the door and outside.  

Once we reach the lawn, he stops pushing me and strides unhurriedly along, looking appreciatively over the grounds.  I keep pace with him, silently, wondering what this is about. 

“I remember everything that’s happened, you know,” he finally states, glancing at me over his shoulder. 

“I know,” I nod, my stomach knotting now in fear of something… 

“I remember everything I did to you.”  He stops now, and turns towards me.  “And I want to apologize.” 

I can feel my cheeks burning in the cool morning air, and my vision is starting to blur with tears.  I try to push the emotion down. 

“You weren’t yourself, Kunzite-sama.  It wasn’t your fault.  Please don’t apologize.” 

My voice is cracking, like an idiot.  Kunzite grabs my arm, perhaps realizing that I might run off. 

“We both know what happened.  I can’t look at you, knowing what I did, and not tell you that I’m sorry,” he insists.  

“It’s alright,” I tell him, crying now, despite all my efforts.  I can’t understand this sudden overwhelm, all this emotion.  I didn’t feel so ashamed about it before, but now I’m awash in humiliation…feeling violated afresh.   I want to cover myself. 

He pulls me against his chest and holds me immobile, letting me cry against him.  And I do, stormily…letting it out, letting who knows what else out…feeling tension drain out of me like air from a deflating balloon.  

“I wasn’t myself,” he agrees softly at last, when I’m finally merely sniveling.  “But I know what you’ve endured.  I wanted you to know I was sorry.  I wanted to clear the air between us.” 

“Thank you.”  My voice is muffled against his chest.  I feel like a weakling.  A pitiful excuse for a warrior.  But…I do feel better.  I can look up into his face…his gorgeous well-boned face…and smile. 

 = = = N = = = 

“A lovely dinner, Rachael,” I say, raising my wineglass to her across the table.  The others do the same, and I smile to see her blush, embarrassed at the attention.  It was a fine meal – it could have been a celebration.  But everyone is feeling too anxious.  Too solemn.  Thinking of our prince.  Thinking of the battle tomorrow morning.  I had a call from Usagi earlier today, telling me the hour, and I told the others.  But we haven’t spoken of it during the meal.  Haven’t spoken much at all. 

“Tomorrow…,” I begin slowly, my thoughts drifting, the word floating ominously over us all.  “We ought to have a plan.  Do we have one?  Is there anything we can do?”

We look to Kunzite without thinking – so quick to fall back to our patterns of a thousand years ago, when he was merely our superior, not our rival. 

Kunzite considers, putting his glass down empty and bringing his palms together, steepling his fingers.  

“Beryl has chosen her five ‘girls’ to meet the senshi, should they attempt an assault.  Leaving the rest of the youma to guard the palace.” 

“We can’t help with Beryl’s own warriors,” I sigh.  “But we could get rid of the others.  We could do at least that much.” 

“Would that be safe?” Zoicite worries.  “Being that close to her?  Won’t she notice us?” 

“It’s a risk,” I acknowledge.  “But I, for one, am prepared to take some risk, after all this waiting around.” 

“And maybe,” Jadeite reasons, “She’ll be too focused on Sailor Moon and the senshi to notice us.” 

“How can she not notice you if you have to fight every youma in the place?” Rachael asks, misunderstanding. 

“We don’t have to fight them, Rachael,” I explain.  “They’re ours.  We trained them.  Created them.  Molded them from dark energy.  They have to obey us.  They know no other way.” 

“So you’re going to order them to fall on their swords?” Rachael asks dryly. 

“I think not,” Kunzite replies, with a slight smile at her words.  “To kill them would be to free a massive amount of energy.  Energy Beryl could use too well.” 

“I agree,” I nod.  “So?  We lead them away.  Post them far enough back that they’re out of action.  Agreed?” 

There are slow nods all around, except from Rachael who is frowning at me, disappointed. 

“And I do nothing?” she asks me.  “I want to help.  I’m in this with the rest of you.” 

“Rachael, you’ve already done more for all of us than I could ever thank you for,” I tell her sincerely, glad for an opportunity to finally say it aloud.  “And you won’t be doing nothing.  You will go and get Naru and bring her here.  Keep her safe.  I want her here with me at the end, whatever happens.” 

= = = R = = = 

A miserable dark day.  Fitful wind and grumbles of thunder.  I park the car carefully outside Naru’s house and sneer up at it through the pelting rain.  My mission.  My grand mission in the last glorious scene.  To fetch the girl he loves and keep her safe.  No fucking irony there.  

A part of me argues that it’s possible he’s trying to keep me safe as well, but I dismiss that voice, determined to be cynical…as miserable as the weather. 

I get out, walking slowly to the door, ignoring the rain that soaks my clothes through.  I ring the bell once, and wait, trying to wipe any expression off my face. 

“Hello again,” Naru says as she opens the door and sees me.  I can hear the worried voice of a news reporter coming from her TV.  “Some crazy stuff happening, ne?”  She looks scared, in spite of her laugh, then looks hard at me.  “Is it to do with Nephrite?  All these horrible things?” 

I nod, unsmiling.  

“It’s the end.  Or the beginning,” I say grimly.  “Either way, it’ll be over.  Nephrite asked me to fetch you.  Will you come?” 

= = = N = = = 

Good enough.  We’re miles and miles from action here.  

I order my youma into guard formation, facing outward, as the other generals are ordering their youma now…forming a tight, secure ring…against an enemy we already know is within, fighting at this very moment.  I step back from the motionless figures, and I’m satisfied.   They will stand there till they fall to dust, if necessary.  

I turn and look behind me, my eyes following the rise in the endless white landscape, to where the palace lays hidden….where my prince is a prisoner.  But we can’t risk that much…going within.  We’d be more of a risk to him than any help. 

 Sailor Moon…it’s in your hands now.  There’s nothing more I can do here, and I want to be with Naru, whatever happens.  It’s time to go. 

Back home, I find Naru and Rachael in tears, watching events through the stars, as I’ve taught Rachael to do. 

“What has happened?” I ask breathlessly, stepping forward, just as the other generals materialize around me. 

“The senshi are dead,” Rachael tells me hollowly.  “Sailor Moon has gone on alone to face Beryl.”  

I reach to gather Naru against me, to calm her tears, but my eyes…all of our eyes are on the unfolding events.  We watch, unspeaking as Beryl transports Moon to her throne-room…to find Endymion waiting for her…waiting with an attack.   She evades him, and each of us is breathless with hope as she raises her wand and heals him at last. 

But…it doesn’t work.  It doesn’t work. 

You can feel the change in the room as we watch now, eyes glazed, spirits broken, our one hope gone.  Endymion torments her, despite her pleas.  How can this end?  How can it end in any way that is bearable, now?  Should she die – there dies all hope.  Yet could she defeat him, how could we ever go on…having failed so badly? 

I barely notice the events…Moon is lying as one dead, her ginzuishou within her reach, but unsought by her.  She seems as I feel…beyond caring.  Selfish of me.  So selfish, to come back here and meddle with history.  Moon defeated Beryl once.  The world was safe.  And I altered it…for what?  To save my comrades, but in the end, to fail my prince.  To fail the world. 

Beryl orders Endymion to finish her, but Moon surprises him and myself by hurling her Tiara…catching Endymion a terrible blow.  He collapses, but gets up again, determined…perhaps driven by Beryl’s power now.  He stands above her, sword drawn, eyes lifeless.  She doesn’t bow, nor fight him, but instead kneels before him, arms upstretched in supplication – some golden trinket flashing on her upturned palms.  His dead eyes widen, and as he touches it, he is visibly jolted by some power unseen.  A spark, then a glow of humanity is kindled in his eyes.  

“Usagi,” he murmurs. 

As powerfully as we are suddenly overjoyed, Beryl is overwhelmed with rage.  To see them together, like this, despite all she’s done – it’s plainly unbearable to her.  Is this what fired it all, all these thousand years?  All this destruction and torment, all these wasted lives?  One woman’s petty jealousy?  I can’t believe it… 

Beryl, past hope or reason, lifts and hurls a great slab of rock towards the couple, but Prince Endymion anticipates her, hurling a rose, striking her…but a moment too late.  He is hit.  Mortally.  And this time, there is no rescue. 

Naru shakes in my arms, sobbing, tears streaming as she watches her friend collapse in grief over my prince’s body.  I hold her tightly, then lower us to sit on the floor, cradling her in my lap, rocking her like a child…comforting myself somehow, by comforting her…my own tears running down my face and into her warm soft hair.     

The others, their faces desolate, sit also…hope gone from their eyes, indifferently watching the small figure of Sailor Moon, standing outside the shattered palace.  She is dwarfed by a demon Beryl, the woman within gone now…a mere shell, a carrier for the great Metallia, released at last to wreak her havoc upon poor Earth.  I hold Naru more tightly against to me.  I’m happy to face death myself, but I’d do anything to keep it from her. 

The trees outside are screeching and moaning, threatening to snap in a sudden vicious gale…the dawning of a new Dark world.  Zoicite hides his face against Kunzite’s shoulder with a muffled sob, and Kunzite gathers him close, bending to rest his pale head again Zoicite’s golden one.  Jadeite stares at them for a moment then looks at me…bowing his head infinitesimally…a farewell salute.  I return it sadly, then notice Rachael, sitting between Jadeite and I, staring at me with wide tear-filled eyes.  She tries to smile as I meet her gaze, but the tears spill over and she finally buries her head in her hands, her back shaking as she silently weeps. 

I glance fatalistically back up to see Sailor Moon wielding the ginzuishou – a small circle of pure light, waning…about to be snuffed out by Metallia’s awesome darkness.  Such courage…such tenacity from such a young, brainless child.  I would give everything to help her.  Power of the stars, give her my strength…give her my strength… 

Without realizing, I find I have chanted my wish aloud, and I’m surprised to find it suddenly taken up by Rachael, then by Jadeite, then by the rest…all of us willing it, like a desperate prayer.  Give her my strength. 

Rachael slips her hand into mine, and I put out my hand for Kunzite’s…all of us making a circle of power, except Naru who stays pressed against my chest, watching bravely now, chanting with us.  Give her my strength. 

It might be us.  It might be her mother, Serenity.  It might just be Moon’s strength alone.  Or it might be something I’ll never understand.  But for whatever reason, the sputtering small globe of light starts to swell again, then suddenly pulses with blinding brightness – an explosion of white.  A sudden amazing levity comes over my soul, like tight chains finally unbound…and I could cry out in an ecstasy of freedom.  It’s Metallia’s destruction – it could be nothing else.  The banishment of evil.  But…it’s something more than even that.  This force, this light…I can feel the power of it growing, even from continents away.  A power of renewal…a power of rebirth…frightening in its intensity…threatening to wash away everything in its path.  

I drop Kunzite’s hand and reach desperately for Naru, twining my fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth hard against mine, kissing her like I’ve never kissed her – with head-swimming passion, trying to fill her mind with only me…filling my own senses with nothing but how much I love her…need her… 

…and at that moment, the wave hits us.  Senses, thoughts, desires, and fears all churn and tumble like dry leaves in a hurricane, torn from their hosts, echoing in a dreamy timeless void. 

 

_What have I done?  I can’t endure my own memories. I can't go on._

_Only she matters.  I can live with it all, if I can just stay with her._

_I don’t want to remember.  I don’t want him to remember. Send us oblivion._

           _I am content.  I’m at peace.  Let me only make her happy too._

_I love him.  I love him.  He’s my whole world._

_No…please no…don’t let me forget.  For god’s sake, please…don’t make me go back._


	18. EPILOGUE

I don’t know how much later, I wake up with Naru-chan still cradled in my arms.  She’s blinking, coming awake too, slowly.  She focuses on my face, then reaches her arms up to pull me close, gratefully.  I squeeze her back, with trembling hands. 

“Where is everyone?” she wonders in a moment, looking about her at the empty room. 

“Kunzite and Zoicite, I imagine, chose to forget,” I reflect. “To start over.  But I'll warrant wherever they are…or will be…they’re together.  It’s what saved them – they saved each other.  As Moon saved Endymion.  As you saved me.” 

Naru smiles sadly and turns herself in my arms, cuddling in, her head on my chest. 

“And the others?” 

“I don’t know,” I admit. 

And it’s true – of Jadeite I have no idea…where he’s gone, what he chose.  

As for Rachael – all I have are hopes…that she has gone home.  For in those last few seconds, I forced her grip from mine and dropped her hand.  There was no other way.  And no time for thanks or farewells.  The only hope for her a fresh start – the life she had before I destroyed it.  I pray fervently she’s gone to that – with not a recollection of me.  And perhaps, one day, I can forgive myself for what I did to her… 

“Won’t you miss them?” Naru asks. 

“I will,” I sigh, resting my chin on the top of her head.  “But they’re free now.  That’s all I ever wanted.” 

She’s quiet in my arms, and I pull her up into a tighter embrace, moving my face alongside hers, pressing her soft cheek against mine. 

“Although,” I add quietly, my mouth close to her ear, feeling her tense expectantly in my arms.  “There’s one thing that I still want.  Do you know what that is?” 

“No,” she answers nervously, blushing so that I’m ashamed of my attempt at levity. 

“A chocolate parfait,” I whisper, smiling, but expecting anger now…or at least disappointment. 

But she merely laughs, blushing more deeply at her own thoughts.  

She sighs, stifling another giggle, resting her head on my shoulder relievedly.  “Is everything really going to be all right now?” 

“I hope it is,” I tell her…the only thing I can tell her.  “I hope it will be.” 

= = = R = = = 

It’s overcast and chilly as I make my way home from class.  The wind rustles the leaves fitfully and the night air has a sharp cold tang.  I draw in a breath, savouring it, as I come to the brow of the hill, stopping a moment near the empty park bench…looking down to the dark sea.  A queer feeling of déjà vu rushes over me, and I stand puzzling a moment, trying to decipher it.  

Of course it feels familiar, I tell myself.  I come by here every other night!  

But it doesn’t feel…familiar.  It feels…like something’s wrong…missing. 

The wind whips up more insistently and a cold drizzle starts.  I shake the odd feeling off and walk away, putting up my umbrella. 

I cross the street and head towards home.  As I near my building, I notice that same gorgeous red car, parked and idling, near my door.  I’ve seen it a few times now, here and there.  I wonder whose it is? 

I try to act nonchalant as I walk closer.  As I come abreast, I’m about to duck my head to get a look at the driver, but the car pulls away – off with a roar into the night.  I stare after it a moment, then shrug. 

If he’s a stalker, he’s a rich one.  You could do worse, Rachael. 

I grin as I turn the key in the lock, but the grin doesn’t last until the elevator.  

I make a little dinner, correct my papers, then climb into bed with a book – all as usual…as empty as usual.  But I’m feeling…slightly worse.  As if…I’d lost something I once had. 

In the morning, I’m too busy for melancholy, hurrying late to class.  Happily, when I get to the lecture hall, I discover the prof is also late, so I pull out a book, hoping to catch up on some reading.  A soft voice from my right interrupts me. 

“Excuse me.” 

I’m drawn to the sound…a low quiet voice, a seductive tone that somehow commands and cajoles simultaneously. 

I turn to the desk beside me to stare somewhat drop-jawed into deliciously deep blue eyes…attractively obscured beneath spikes of blonde. 

He’s staring back at me unabashedly, and raises an eyebrow in confused inquiry. 

“Have we met?” 

I shake my head.  I would remember.  To say the least. 

Yet…I’m overcome once again with that peculiar recognition…that frustrating sense that my heart knows something that my head will not remember. 

After a few moments of frowning concentration, he lets the matter pass and smiles at me with devastating charm. 

“I’ve just joined this class.  Would you mind if I borrowed your notes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all she wrote. ^_~


End file.
